A Heart Divided
by ammiva
Summary: Post-Hogwarts. Hermione begins a new Ministry job with Draco just as a relationship begins to bloom with Harry. Will her new Ministry assignments with Draco get in the way of new love? Or will new love blossom from the intrusion? HGHP or HGDM.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters, places, and recognizable situations belong to J. K. Rowling and related publishers. No copyright infringement intended. (Disclaimer applies to all chapters.)

XOXOXOXOXOXO

**A Heart Divided**

Chapter 1

XOXOXOXOXOXO

The cool, morning air glided gently across the freshly trimmed yards at Starlight Lane. The unstirring silence was interrupted momentarily by the faint echo of a dog barking some ways away, then returned to the lazy morning stillness. Bright, sharp sunlight illuminated the rooftops and spilled brilliantly over the shingles onto the flowering gardens below. The day was emerging and beckoning anyone who dared stir to awaken to the beauty of a new day. But no one on sleepy Starlight Lane was aware of the new day's arrival. Almost no one.

A richly hued pink daisy swayed silkily under the touch of long slender fingers. "How beautiful!" A bright, beaming face, flushed with the coolness of the morning air, ardently admired Mother Nature's brilliance.

The admirer, a girl with rich brown eyes and full chestnut hair, raised a smooth wooden wand to the stem of the daisy and said, "Floravivo." No sooner had the incantation left her mouth than a short streak of light pulsed from the wand to the flower, cutting the stem cleanly across. The flower jumped an inch into the air, as though shot upward from an infinitesimal cannon. The girl reached her hand forward and easily grasped the stem of the flower that floated motionlessly before her. She took one last admiring look at the flower before taking the book she had tucked under her arm and placing her freshly cut garden bookmark between its pages.

She looked up at the ever growing bright sky to see a couple of sleek owls undoubtedly making their way home from a productive night of hunting. A familiar white owl, apparently carrying something in its beak, glided smoothly and gracefully through the upstairs window of the house next door. _Hmm_. She consulted the watch on her arm. 7:45 am. _It may be a tad bit early_, she thought, but _the day is here, beautiful, and ready to begin_. The birds in a nearby tree squawked and ruffled their wings when the street echoed with a loud crack. And with that, the girl  
was gone.

XOXOXOXOXOXO

A young man stirred slightly in his bed as the girl from the garden looked down at him. Bright red, tousled hair barely poked out from under the safe haven of a warm orange comforter. His left arm hung limp over the edge of the bed, the only part of him daring to sneak out from under the covers, besides the spiky hair. _Oh, he looks so cute and comfortable_, she thought. With the hint of a devious grin, she leapt from the floor and landed with her knees planted right on the edge of the bed.

"Good morning, sleepyhead! It's time to get up!" she cheerfully said as she bounced up and down on the bed.

"Urgh," the young man grunted as his body rebounded with every bounce.

"Ron! Wake up! We're going to Diagon Alley today, remember?" she asked, prodding him gently in the ribs.

"Geroff," he muttered. She continued to bounce and prod, waiting for a more satisfactory response.

"Hermione! Clear off before I hex you!" he exclaimed.

"Oh fine," she said dejectedly. "You're no fun in the morning." She slid off the side of the bed and kneeled down on the floor to get at eye level with Ron. "But we have to go to Diagon Alley today, and if you don't get up now we'll never get anything done."

He mumbled something unintelligible and rolled over so his back was facing her.

"Okay, just go back to sleep," she taunted. "But don't come complaining to me that you didn't get everything you needed."

"Sure, mum."

"What did you say?" Hermione snapped. "I am not your mother, and don't you forget it!"

"Oh, come on, 'Mione," Ron muffled from under the covers. "It's a compliment. Aren't guys supposed to look for girls who resemble their mothers?"

"Only if they want a Greek tragedy on their hands," she answered.

"Hunh?"

"Oh, honestly, Ron. You really should read a little every once in a while." With that she turned on her heel and walked out of the room, a bit annoyed.

Once in the hallway, she turned left and entered the bedroom beside Ron's. She opened the door to a sight similar to the one next door. Messy, black hair shot in every direction as it poked out from a dark blue comforter. Instead of an arm, a leg was the only thing visible besides the hair.

Hermione crept up to the side of the bed and knelt next to it. She slowly lifted back the top of the comforter to reveal more messy hair and a completely unconscious face. She leaned in close to the young man's face, and when she was mere inches from the side of his face, she blew softly into his ear. He flinched briefly, then stilled. She smirked slightly then started to blow air a bit more forcefully. He jerked his head away and then back, shaking his head every time his ear came in contact with the air Hermione sent his way. She stopped blowing to giggle after about the sixth head shake. She finally whispered, "Harry, it's time to get up."

He sighed as he turned on his side, facing her, and flung his arm out. Hermione was caught off guard and almost fell over as Harry's arm landed right on her shoulder and draped down her back. The weight of his arm pinned her down slightly as she tried to wiggle out from under it. She stopped wiggling and looked at his peaceful face. _What is it about these goofy guys that makes them look so cute when they sleep?_ she thought. She noticed tiny laugh lines around his mouth as he grinned in his sleep. She looked at him a little more closely as his grin grew slightly. "Are you awake?" she asked suspiciously.

"Uh-uh," he muttered, as his grin grew into a smile.

"You faker!" she said, pulling herself out from under his arm.

"Good morning, sweetheart," he said jokingly.

"Well, that's better than what I got out of Ron," she said shaking her head. "He called me 'mum.'" Harry sniggered briefly before stretching out fully on his bed. "He also threatened to hex me," she pouted.

"Ah," Harry replied. "That means he'll be ready to wake up in about two hours."

"Two hours! But how will we get everything done? We only have today to get everything ready for our new jobs on Monday."

"Don't worry, Hermione," Harry said while patting her arm. "We'll get it all done. You go ahead and get started and I'll be sure Ron gets up."

"Oh, okay," she relented. "But try to get him up soon."

"Not too soon," he said seriously. "He only _threatened_ to hex you. He just might really hex me."

She smiled, relaxing a bit as Harry looked at her. "Meet me in the Leaky Cauldron at eleven."

"Better make it noon," he suggested. "If Ron does hex me, it will take a while for him to come up with the counter-jinx." He grinned playfully at her.

"Okay, noon," she said. "But not a minute later."

"Yes, ma'am." They exchanged smiles, and Hermione left with a loud crack.

XOXOXOXOXOXO

"Calling me 'mum.' Where does he get off doing that?" Hermione muttered under her breath as she entered the back entrance of the Leaky Cauldron. She was so caught up in her musings that she didn't even notice the sound of her name being called.

"Good morning, Hermione. Hermione?"

Hermione stopped after finally hearing her name. She looked over to the bar and saw a smiling man putting mugs on a shelf behind him. "Oh, good morning, Tom," she said with a sweet smile.

"So, how is our Ministry Scholar doing this fine morning?" he asked as he placed another mug on the shelf.

"I'm doing very well, Tom. Thanks for asking." She found a little round table just a few feet from the bar, set her book down, and slid into the seat facing Tom.

"I expected to see Harry and Ron with you this morning. I think I've seen just about all of the Ministry Scholars around picking up their supplies except you three." He placed the last mug on the shelf and began pouring a bag of nuts into several small bowls.

"Well," Hermione began, a hint of exasperation in her voice, "they were supposed to be here, but they felt sleep was more important. They're meeting me here at noon."

Tom let out a hearty laugh and said, "Ah, yes, the folly of male youth. I remember it well." His eyes twinkled with amusement. "But don't worry. Auror training will cure them of that, mind you."

Tom had just finished setting the bowls out across the bar when a small "Ding!" sounded in a room off to the left of the bar. "'Scuse me, Hermione. One of the guests is needing to check out. Nancy!" he called into another side room. "Come and get our customer fixed up, will you?" He winked and smiled at Hermione as he left to answer the incessant "Ding!"

A middle aged witch, presumably Nancy, walked out from the other side room with a towel in her hand.

"Good mornin', Miss. What can I get for yeh?" she pleasantly asked.

"Oh, just a muffin with jam and a cup of hot cocoa," Hermione answered.

"Strawberry all right?" Nancy asked. Hermione nodded. Nancy pulled out a wand from the side pocket of her apron and gently tapped the table. A plate with a muffin and jam and a mug of hot cocoa on a saucer appeared. Utensils and a small tea towel appeared right next to the plate. "Enjoy, dear. Holler if yeh need anything else." Nancy turned to leave as Hermione began to spread jam on her muffin.

Hermione absentmindedly bit into her muffin as she thought about past events. It seemed like yesterday when she, Harry, and Ron were graduating from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It had been a lovely day.

_Graduating students and their families were packed into the Great Hall which had been transformed into a sort of conference center. Where the staff's head table usually was stood a raised platform with padded chairs for each graduate lined up in rows. An ornate dark wooden podium with the Hogwarts crest carved into the front took prominence in the center of the platform while big squashy armchairs for the staff lined the edges. Family and other guests were seated in long rows of comfy benches that stretched all the way to the back of the hall. As usual, candles suspended in mid-air gave the hall a bright, warm glow._

_Hermione and Harry had given speeches, as was customary for Head Girl and Boy to do. Then Professor Dumbledore stood and announced the Ministry Scholars._

_"As you all are undoubtedly aware, last month each graduating student was allowed to apply for the newly instituted Ministry of Magic Scholar Program. Under this program, ten students would be chosen to begin training and internships for careers in the Ministry. I am pleased to announce that ten students have been chosen, and will be awarded the title of Ministry Scholar. Along with this title comes a stipend for housing, supplies, and other miscellaneous needs as well as recognition as newly appointed Ministry employees. Now, without further ado, I  
present to you this year's Ministry Scholars."_

_Each student stood and beamed proudly as his or her name was called. Of course, Hermione's name was read first, followed by Susan Bones, Ernie MacMillan, Dean Thomas, Padma Patil, Hannah Abbott, and Seamus Finnegan. Loud applause followed each name._

_"Draco Malfoy." Cheers erupted from all of the Slytherins, as the other houses applauded courteously._

_Hermione glanced at Harry and Ron with an "it figures" look on her face. Then she held her breath as Dumbledore announced the final two names._

_"Ronald Weasley." Ron let out an audible sigh as he stood along with the other Scholars. Mr. Weasley had sprung out of his chair with fatherly enthusiasm, as Mrs. Weasley sat shaking in her seat, wiping away tears of joy with her nearly drenched hankie._

_"And, finally, Harry Potter." The hall erupted with thunderous applause as Harry got to his feet. Everyone there knew that just one week earlier Harry had finally defeated Lord Voldemort in a duel that had eliminated Voldemort once and for all. The applause and resulting standing ovation was more for Harry's victory over Voldemort than for his Ministry Scholar appointment, but Harry smiled with relief and appreciation anyway._

_Hermione, unable to contain her emotion, threw her arms around both boys, kissed their cheeks and cried, "I knew you could do it!" As the three of them stood there, embraced in a tight hug, no one could deny that these three were the greatest of friends._

Hermione sighed into her mug as she remembered vividly those events of one month earlier. Her memories were interrupted, however, by a chuckle, more of a scoff really, from behind her. She turned her head and looked straight into the steely grey eyes of Draco Malfoy. She rolled her eyes and turned back to her cocoa.

"Lost in thought, are you, Granger?" he said from the table behind her. "Or maybe you're waiting for someone. Surely not Potter or Weasley."

"And what makes you think I'm waiting for someone, Malfoy?" She furiously ripped off a bite of her muffin, trying to release her frustration over his intruding presence in a productive manner.

Malfoy leaned back in his chair and rested his arm across the back of the chair next to him. "Well, you're here without your two boyfriends and you have a book with a flower. Isn't that some sort of signal you use when you're meeting up with someone you've never met before?"

Hermione set down her muffin and mug and turned to face Malfoy, her curiosity piqued. "If I didn't know better, Malfoy, I'd think you'd been reading Muggle romance novels." She eyed him as he shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

"Watch your mouth, Granger," he warned. "I'd never touch a Muggle book, let alone a romance novel."

Hermione knew she had gotten Malfoy's back up, and she loved how for the first time the tables had been turned. "Speaking of boyfriends," she smirked, "where are yours? I've never seen you without Crabbe and Goyle."

Malfoy looked daggers at her as he glared straight into her eyes. "I said watch it, Granger!"

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said with innocent sarcasm. "I forgot that they ran off to France together and left you behind. It must still hurt. But, don't worry, time heals everything."

Malfoy stood up so abruptly and forcefully that the chair beside him was knocked backward to the ground.

He was breathing deeply as his eyes flashed dangerously. "Time heals everything except being a Mudblood!" Hermione watched silently as he stormed briskly from the Leaky Cauldron.

Wow, she had really gotten to Malfoy that time. Something she had said had really set him off. She knew that Crabbe and Goyle hadn't passed any of their N.E.W.T.s and, therefore, hadn't graduated. Crabbe's uncle in France taught at Beauxbatons and had suggested private tutoring so they could attempt their exams again the following year. Of course they weren't really Malfoy's "boyfriends," so why would he get so riled up? Hermione thought for a second and then she shook her head. "He's mental. Honestly." She put some money on the table and traced Malfoy's path from the Leaky Cauldron out to Diagon Alley.

Hermione stepped onto the smooth cobblestone street and made her way down Diagon Alley. The street was slowly coming to life as numerous witches and wizards milled in and out of the shops lining the cobblestone.

A group of children huddled in front of a shop window, talking excitedly about the display. Hermione stopped a few paces behind them to see the object of their enthusiastic coveting.

"It's a Lightning Strike!" shouted one of the boys in the front of the group.

"Brand new this year," enthused another boy in front. "It's better than any of the Nimbus or Firebolt models!"

"It must cost a fortune," mused the first boy in a tone of near reverence.

Hermione couldn't help but smile. She recognized the awe and wonder the two young boys expressed. A small giggle escaped her lips as she thought about how Harry and Ron would rant and rave over the display, too. After all, they were still just little boys themselves, but in grown up bodies.

She walked past the children and into the shop deciding that now was the perfect time to pick up Harry's birthday gift. His birthday was the following day, and she knew exactly what to get. Of course, she would have loved to have gotten him the Lightning Strike. The look on his face would have been worth going into debt over, but she figured the boy outside was right. It must cost a fortune. Knowing she didn't have a fortune, and probably never would, she decided she'd better not even think about it.

"May I help you?" asked a young wizard at the counter.

"Yes. I'd like to get a broom case," she said matter of factly.

"Well, we have several versions to choose from." The wizard led her to the left side of the shop and pointed to no less than twenty different kinds of broom cases.

Hermione's eyes widened as she surveyed deluxe steel cases with anti-theft charms and basic wooden cases with non-locking latches. Her eyes ran quickly over each case until they rested on a display case. It was made of solid mahogany wood and displayed up to three brooms upright. On the right hand side of the case was a hinged door that opened to reveal a broom cleaner storage compartment.

"I want that one," she said decidedly, pointing to the display case.

"Very well," said the wizard. "I'll just get this wrapped up for you. Would you like to have it delivered to you?"

"Yes, please," she said with a smile.

As she began to follow the wizard back to the counter something caught the corner of her eye—white blond hair. She turned to see Draco Malfoy glaring at her. As soon as their eyes met he turned his back to her and looked down at the broom cleaning kits.

"If you'll write the delivery address here we can have this delivered to you tonight," the wizard said, handing her a slip of paper.

Hermione turned back to the counter and scribbled down her address. She paid the wizard and began to walk toward the door. She glanced around the shop and noticed that Malfoy had gone.

Hermione stepped outside of Quality Quidditch Supplies and headed over to Flourish and Blotts to pick up some books. As she walked she thought about what she had said to Malfoy in the Leaky Cauldron. It was no worse than anything Malfoy had ever said to her, and he had never thought twice about his insults. But instead of reveling in her victory over him, she felt bad. There was a time at Hogwarts when she would have been hoisted up on the shoulders of Gryffindors, or Hufflepuffs or Ravenclaws, for that matter, for bringing down the school's cockiest Slytherin, and she would have savored every second of it. But now, she just felt guilty. She wasn't a vindictive person. And she certainly wasn't as low as Malfoy in the common decency department. So why had she stooped to his level and been so insulting to him? _He just brings out the worst in me_, she decided. She shook her head to clear it and walked into Flourish and Blotts.

She needed two books for her internship. She went straight to the Magical Governments section and found them right away. She was busy reading the inside flap of one of the books to acquaint herself with the author when she smacked right into a person entering the same book aisle. The book she was reading flew out of her hands and landed between them. She bent down, a bit flustered, and said, "I'm sorry," at just the same time as the other person. They reached for the book at the same time, and their fingers touched as they both grasped the book. A small shock shot up her arm and down her body as she looked up and her eyes met steel grey ones.

Malfoy's eyes turned cold as they met hers. He let go of the book, stood up, and stalked away before Hermione could even get to her feet. _That was odd_, she thought. _He was actually going to be nice and pick up my book. Until he saw it was me, of course._ She didn't think she had ever seen him be nice to anyone before, not even his own friends. She thought about their awkward encounter until she got to the counter to pay, then quickly dismissed it from her mind.

"And how would you like to pay for this today?" said the witch at the register.

"Um, my Ministry Scholar account, please," Hermione said a bit tentatively.

"Ah, yes," replied the witch. "And you are Miss –"

"Granger," said Hermione.

"Very good, Miss Granger. Here you are." The witch handed her a handled paper bag containing her new books. "Congratulations on your Ministry appointment."

"Thank you," Hermione said with a small smile. She then turned and walked toward the exit.

Once outside and back on the cobblestone Hermione looked at the watch on her left wrist. 10:30 am. With any luck Harry had been able to convince Ron to get out of bed without being hexed.

_Those two_, she thought. How different they were. Ron was a terror to wake. Harry was gentle and sweet. Ron was a bit crass and insensitive at times. Harry was usually tender and kind. Ron could be somewhat slow on the uptake. Harry always seemed to be one step ahead. But when she got right down to it, she thought they were both perfect. "Now if only they'd get here," she voiced softly.

As she walked towards Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions she saw a little girl walking by happily holding an ice cream cone. _Oh, I've got to get myself one of those_, she thought. _After I get my robes_, she promised herself.

She walked into Madame Malkin's and a dreamy, far away sounding chime tinkled through the shop as Madame Malkin herself emerged from behind a silk draped partition.

"Welcome, my dear. How may I help you?" she asked.

"I need some Ministry robes," Hermione said brightly.

"But of course. We have one of your colleagues being fitted right now. Please follow me."

Hermione followed Madame Malkin behind the partition to the back of the shop and stopped abruptly as she saw the sight in front of her. Standing on a short foot stool in front of a full length mirror was Draco Malfoy. Hermione rolled her eyes and heaved a sigh as she resolutely moved forward. Madame Malkin ushered her to a stool and mirror right next to Malfoy. She stood on the stool and glanced quickly at him out of the corner of her eye, hoping he wouldn't notice. He just stared straight ahead as though she wasn't there.

Madame Malkin and her assistant pinned Hermione's and Malfoy's robes as they stood in silence. After a long silence of pinning the assistant walked into a side room muttering something about "more pins." When the assistant hadn't returned a few minutes later, Madame Malkin made her way into the same side room.

Hermione and Malfoy continued to stand in silence, each looking into their own mirrors. Just when Hermione thought she couldn't take the awkward silence any more, Malfoy spoke.

"Following me, Granger?" he said coolly, sounding a bit disinterested.

"I could say the same to you," she retorted.

"I believe I was here first," he said in a rather aloof tone.

Hermione turned to look at him. She opened her mouth to say something, then shook her head and turned back to her mirror.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "Can't think of anything nasty enough to say back to me?"

"Actually, I can, and that's the problem," she said a bit guiltily.

He turned his head slightly and looked at her reflection in his mirror. "So, what's stopping you?" he dared.

She looked at his reflection and put her hand on her hip. "What's stopping me is that I am not a vindictive person, like you. I do not thrill in belittling others and dragging them down. I don't have to stamp out others to make me feel better about myself. I am not a horrible person—." At this last statement her hand fell from her hip and she looked slightly away.

"Like me," he said.

"What?" she asked distractedly.

"You're not a horrible person like me."

"I didn't say that," she said a bit hastily.

"But that's what you meant. Isn't it?" He turned his whole body towards her and looked her straight in the eyes.

"I…,'er…, you bring out the worst in me," she finally said, feeling a little uncomfortable. She didn't know which was worse, his averted eyes or his penetrating stare.

He stared at her for a moment longer, then turned back to his mirror and said, "So I see."

Just then Madame Malkin and her assistant returned, each jingling a box of pins. "Sorry, dears," she apologized. "You'll both be done in a minute. So, which departments in the Ministry have you been appointed to?"

"The Department of International Magical Co-operation." Hermione and Malfoy had both spoken at the same time.

Hermione's jaw dropped as she saw Malfoy glance casually towards her, then away.

"Are you kidding me?" Hermione asked dumbfounded. Malfoy remained silent. The Ministry Scholars had only just received their department appointments the previous week, so this news came as quite a shock to her.

"Well, you're both done. Congratulations and good luck," offered Madame Malkin. "We'll keep these measurements on file so you can order more robes at any time without a re-fitting."

Hermione thanked Madame Malkin and quickly left the shop before Malfoy had even descended from the foot stool.

_Well, that was uncomfortable_, Hermione thought as she breathed in the fresh outdoor air. What she had said was true. Malfoy did bring out the worst in her. They both knew it. And now they had to work together in the same Ministry department. _Oh, that's rich. Someone must really have it in for me_.

She walked slowly down Diagon Alley thinking about whether or not she would be able to get through each day with Malfoy around. She wondered if International Magical Co-operation had been Malfoy's first choice in departments. They had each been asked to select their top three department requests on their applications. Hermione had gotten her first request. And after Harry and Ron had passed their character and aptitude tests she had known they were shoe-ins for the Auror training program, their first requests. Well, regardless of whether International Magical Co-operation was Malfoy's first choice or not she was going to have to work with him, like it or not. She grimaced as she decided it was the latter.

As she walked back towards the Leaky Cauldron she noticed how busy Diagon Alley had become. Witches chatted happily to one another, huddled around outside displays, while their children darted in and out of the Quidditch and candy shops and their husbands leaned against the storefronts laden down with packages, wishing they were somewhere else. Hermione looked ahead of her and saw through the ever changing kaleidoscope of various shoppers a flash of spiky red hair bobbing up and down in the crowd ahead. As the hair traveled closer she saw a face emerge beneath it, complete with freckles and a pleasantly goofy grin. Hermione quickened her pace as she scurried around a group of dawdling witches and stopped right in front of Ron, hands on hips.

"Ah, there you are, Hermione," Ron said, maintaining the same goofy grin.

"You're late," she said impatiently, her right foot tapping the ground.

"What?" Ron asked quizzically, grabbing Hermione's left wrist and peering at her watch. "It's only 11:15. Harry said we weren't meeting until noon. So we're early." Ron looked at Harry, who was standing to his right, and then back to Hermione. He folded his arms, puffed out his chest a bit, and looked smugly triumphant.

"No, you would have been early if you had gotten up when I tried to get you up," Hermione said, trying not to smile at Ron's attempt to look victorious.

Ron's self-satisfied air dissipated quickly as he hung his head slightly and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Oh, yeah, Harry told me about that, too." He looked shyly embarrassed as he shuffled a small pebble between the cobblestone and his shoe. "I, uh, wouldn't ever really hex you, you know." He looked up at her with his head still slightly lowered, checking to see if she still looked at him with her reproving stare.

Hermione bit her tongue to keep from laughing. Ron was giving her the same look her cousin Kate's Labrador puppy had given her when he ripped a page from the novel she had been reading the previous summer. How could she get mad at those pleading puppy dog eyes? She resisted the urge to ruffle his hair and simply said, "Right," as she tried to hold on to her glare. She finally broke and a playful smile spread across her face.

Ron let out the breath he had been holding and sighed in relief. The last thing he wanted was to make Hermione angry. He may well have been beginning Auror training, but he knew full well that not even the most powerful Auror would be able to defeat the wrath of Hermione.

She turned to Harry and gave him a quick visual inspection from head to toe. "You're hex-free, too?" she asked, her eyebrows slightly raised.

"Yeah. Barely," he responded with an amused smile. "But you should see the hole Ron's hex put in the wall I was standing in front of."

Hermione gasped. "Ron!" she exclaimed as she slapped his arm.

"Hey!" he shouted, as he unsuccessfully pulled away from her swatting hand. "That's not true. Harry's just trying to get me in trouble." As Hermione turned to Harry, Ron frantically waved his arms behind her head and signaled to Harry to keep quiet.

"Um," Harry began as he saw Ron mouth "Please," and put his palms together in praying fashion. Harry rolled his eyes at Ron and said, "Yeah, I'm just kidding."

She gave Harry a small smirk and said, "Okay, then," as she stood between them and linked her arms through theirs. "Let's get going."

As Hermione led them forward Harry looked over her head at Ron and mouthed, "You owe me."

The three of them spent the rest of the morning and afternoon in and out of shops picking up the supplies Harry and Ron needed to begin their Auror training. They stopped by shop number ninety-three, Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, but neither of Ron's twin brothers, Fred or George, were there. "They're probably sick in bed from testing one of their latest concoctions," Ron muttered, holding his stomach in memory of one of the times he tested a new creation accidentally. "What's that?" he asked incredulously as his eyes wandered towards a nearby shop, his hand leaving his stomach to tug at Harry's arm.

As Hermione suspected, Harry and Ron both ran to the window with the Lightning Strike display and began marveling over its sleek design and master craftsmanship. She stood aside and laughed at the two who were behaving just like the little boys she had seen that morning. Finally, after three attempts and the threat of having to skip dinner if they didn't get going, Harry and Ron reluctantly allowed Hermione to steer them gently from the Quidditch shop.

They successfully got their required books, potion supplies, and robes, and also a few extra items along the way. "They're just for fun," Ron said as he gripped a bag bearing a new wizard's chess set. "Mine was ancient," he said defensively when Hermione stared at him. "One of the knights kept falling off his horse like a drunken git."

The three continued to make their way down Diagon Alley when they heard a "Psst" coming from near one of the shops. They turned and looked in three different directions as they heard their names being called. "Ron. Harry. Hermione. Over here." Harry looked at a display cart covered with star charts and saw a patch of bright red hair poking out of the side of the cart near the wheel.

"Fred?" Harry asked tentatively.

"Right you are, Harry," Fred said with a happy grin.

Ron and Hermione moved closer to the side of the cart and stood by Harry. "What are you doing here?" Ron asked. "And why are you hiding?"

"Keep it down, little brother," Fred hissed. "Follow me."

Ron, Harry, and Hermione exchanged glances with each other before following Fred. They moved cautiously past the unoccupied cart and through a narrow alleyway between two store fronts. They had barely entered the alleyway when they began descending a steep flight of stone stairs. It went forward, then jogged to the left. After about forty steps they came out of the alleyway and stepped down onto a small dirt courtyard. The stone courtyard walls were lined with wooden crates of all sizes. Ron looked around, somewhat perplexed and asked, "Where are we?"

"You'll see." Fred's eyes glinted mischievously as he pulled out his wand and tapped a section of the stone wall not covered with crates and whispered, "I seek to go where no law abiding witch or wizard dares to go." Bright beams of light shot out from between the stones and within seconds a door had appeared. Fred opened the door and walked in, followed hesitantly by Harry, Hermione, and Ron.

They entered what seemed to be a small stock room filled with the same crates they had seen outside. Ron shut the door behind them and they all followed Fred out of the stock room and down a brightly lit hall. At the end of the hall a large room appeared, filled with rows and tables of assorted sweets and joke items. As they walked into the room Ron's jaw dropped as he looked at the colorfully bright table displays. "What is this place?" he asked in awe.

"Look," Harry said as he pointed to a counter with a cash register on top of it. A sign hanging just above the register read, "Welcome to Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, Fred and George Weasley, Proprietors."

Just as Hermione finished reading the sign aloud, George popped up from behind the counter. "Welcome friends, to Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes," he said, gesturing to the store in front of him. "Within these walls you will find sweets and jokes of all kinds. Sweets to make your love sweeter, jokes to make your enemies sprout feathers, sweets to help you skive off your boring lessons and staff meetings. Can't find what you're looking for? Never fear. We are constantly developing new products and gladly take requests. Thank you for your attention, and  
please enjoy your visit to Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes."

Fred whistled and applauded as George bowed graciously to an imaginary adoring crowd.

"Wow," said Harry rather impressed. "This is some set-up you have."

"Thank you, kind sir," said George. "And what does the other gentleman and the lady think of our fine establishment?"

"It's wonderful," Hermione offered with a smile.

"It's amazing! Even better than the other one!" Ron replied as he glanced between his two twin brothers. "I didn't know you opened another shop in Diagon Alley."

"We didn't," said Fred. "All of the respectable citizens of the wizarding community have access to our fine products in Diagon Alley. But what about the less than respectable ones? Those who are shunned from the clean reputation of Diagon Alley? How could we leave them without an establishment like Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes? So we decided to open one here, too."

"And where exactly is 'here?'" asked Hermione.

"Why, Knockturn Alley, of course," Fred answered jovially.

"You're kidding?" said Ron incredulously. "Does Mum know?"

"Don't be a silly prat, Ron," said George. "Of course she doesn't know. And she'd better not find it out from you, if you catch my meaning," he added, twirling his wand between his fingers.

"Hey, now, don't get carried away," Ron said, putting his hands up in front of him. "I wouldn't dream of telling Mum. She'd want to know what I was doing in Knockturn Alley in the first place."

"So, how's business going?" Hermione enquired, glancing around the empty shop.

"Actually, we don't know yet," Fred said unconcernedly. "Our Grand Opening is on Monday."

"Really? Well good luck," offered Harry. "I'm sure you'll be an instant success. After all, your Hogsmeade shop is the most popular one there."

"Too true, Harry," said Fred with a wink.

"So, was that the back entrance we came in through?" asked Ron.

"Yeah," said George. "We just found it two days ago. I guess whoever owned this place before wanted a discreet way in and out without going through the middle of Knockturn Alley."

"Imagine that," Ron whispered to Hermione.

"So, will you all be at the Burrow tomorrow for Mum's 'Congratulations Ministry Scholars' party?" Fred asked, changing the subject.

Mrs. Weasley had planned a family get-together to celebrate Ron's, Harry's, and Hermione's Ministry appointments. The party just happened to coincide with Harry's 18th birthday, so, with a little encouraging from Hermione, the party would also be a surprise birthday party. Fred looked at Hermione and gave her a little wink when Harry's back was turned.

"Oh, of course," Hermione replied, winking back. "We wouldn't miss a Weasley family gathering for the world."

"Excellent," Fred and George chorused. "Mum said to arrive at 3:00 on the dot," George finished, looking directly at Hermione as though to emphasize the time.

"You can count on it," Ron said smiling. "Well, we'd better be going."

"Yes, indeed, little brother," Fred said with a wave of his hand. "We have plenty to do ourselves. You can find your way out yourselves?"

"Sure, we'll just go back the same way we came. Thanks for showing us around." Harry extended a hand to Fred and then to George, adding in a whisper, "I'm still your _anonymous_ financial backer, right?"

"You bet," Fred responded. "Mum is none the wiser."

After saying their goodbyes, Harry, Ron, and Hermione made their way out of the stock room, through the courtyard, up the stairs, and back onto the cobblestone street of Diagon Alley.

"Did anyone see us?" Ron breathed, looking around as they passed the still unoccupied star chart cart.

"I don't think so," Harry said, also looking around.

"Good. I'm starving. Let's get something to eat." Ron hastily led the way as Harry and Hermione smiled at each other and followed their famished friend to the Leaky Cauldron.


	2. Chapter 2

Two hours later, with full stomachs and nearly empty pocketbooks, the trio of friends appeared in the downstairs living room of Harry's and Ron's flat. Ron sank immediately into a soft squashy armchair and grunted. "Ugh. I feel like I've just eaten a hippogriff."

"You practically did," laughed Harry as he and Hermione both sat on a squashy loveseat piled high with pillows.

"Yeah, well, I skipped lunch, you know." Ron groaned and held his stomach.

Hermione grabbed a book from her Flourish and Blotts bag and nestled into the loveseat as she opened it to the first page. Harry leaned into her and looked over her shoulder at the book.

"You're not really going to start reading that now, are you?" Harry enquired.

Hermione turned her head to look at Harry and found herself only inches from him. She started to say something and then stopped as she looked deeply into his sparkling green eyes. She noticed tiny gold flecks that illuminated the surrounding emerald. _Funny I've never noticed that before_, she thought as she continued to gaze into the shimmering depths of his eyes. She noticed the corners of his eyes crinkle slightly and she realized he was smiling at her. _Oh my goodness, am I staring?_ She quickly averted her eyes from his and brought them back to her book. "Yes, I am," she answered him rather hastily, knowing she had also just answered herself. She hoped he wouldn't notice her rapid breathing as she attempted to transfix her stare onto the book's first chapter. She tried to read the first sentence of the page, but couldn't seem to take in more than three words at a time. After about the seventh failed attempt to read she dared a glance over at Harry. She tried to look very nonchalant as she slowly drifted her gaze from the book to him, but jerked her eyes quickly back to the book when she saw Harry still playfully grinning at her.

She felt a warm tickling breath on her neck as Harry moved in even closer to her. She froze, staring blankly at the page in front of her, shockingly aroused by Harry's nearness. "Don't worry," he whispered low enough for Ron not to hear. "I think your eyes are beautiful, too." Harry slowly backed away and leaned against his half of the loveseat. Hermione let out the breath she didn't know she had been holding and began breathing again.

_Was that what I thought it was?_ Her mind was swimming in the depth of his eyes and the warmth of his breath. _Was I just flirting with…Harry? No_, she decided. _Harry and I are just friends. We weren't flirting. We were just noticing how nice each other's eyes are._ She boldly turned her head to look at him and saw that his eyes were closed as he rested against the comfort of the cushion. He looked so relaxed. His hands sat gently on his stomach while his legs were propped up on an oversized ottoman at the base of the loveseat. She watched his chest softly rise and fall as he took long, easy breaths. Her eyes drifted to his face. His features were still boyish, but they had a strength to them that she had never really noticed until now. His jaw was more chiseled now, having lost some of the softness of youth. His cheekbones were also more pronounced. His whole profile seemed strong and solid. He looked much more mature than he had looked even just a year ago. But a boy couldn't go through all that Harry Potter had gone through and not come out of it a man.

_Did I just think that?_ Hermione tossed her head back onto the cushion and closed her eyes. _Oh, I'm in trouble._

Within minutes her breathing evened and she joined Harry and Ron in peacefully uncomplicated sleep.  
----

The sun rose a bit early that morning Hermione thought as she tried to ignore the light that slowly crept through the window into the living room. She kept her eyes shut, hoping that she would be able to go back to sleep. She was warm, comfortable, and had just had the most pleasant sleep she could ever remember having. The last thing she wanted to do was get up and leave the inviting comfort of the loveseat. She opened her slightly closed hand and rested it against something warm. She moved her fingers lightly over the warm surface and felt smooth, toned muscles. Her eyes flew open and she looked at her fingers moving gently over Harry's strong chest. Harry was on his left side facing her, still asleep. She was on her right side facing him, and her head had found a very comfortable niche in the crook of his bent arm. Their legs were both propped up on the ottoman, but somehow during sleep they had intertwined and Hermione found one of his legs tangled between hers. His right arm was draped over her waist and his hand rested lightly in the small of her back. She would never have imagined that this would be a position conducive to sleep, but as she lay there with Harry she felt safe and protected. She absentmindedly continued to lightly stroke Harry's chest with her fingers as she marveled at how strange, yet wonderful, it felt to be lying so intimately with one of her best friends.

She raised her eyes from his chest to look at his face. She took in a startled breath as her eyes looked up to a grinning, awake face. Her fingers immediately stopped their happy exploration as she quietly asked, "How long have you been awake?"

"Since you started touching my chest," he answered, his eyes glittering with amusement.

"I'm…, I'm sorry," she stammered, a warm pink flush finding its way to her cheeks.

"Don't be," he responded gently.

As embarrassed as her pink cheeks indicated she was, she made no move to change her position. Nor did he. His fingers began tracing light circles on her lower back as her fingers resumed their light teasing of his chest. She closed her eyes and shivered as a chill raced up her spine and back again as she reveled in his touch.

_What am I doing?_, a small, faraway voice said in the back of her mind. _This is Harry, your best friend. This isn't what best friends do._

_Oh, but this best friend is doing it so well_, said another voice in her mind. She nuzzled closer into Harry's chest and smiled. Gradually their fingers slowed and finally stopped their reverie as sleep once again overtook them.  
----

Once again, Hermione awoke but continued to keep her eyes closed. She and Harry hadn't moved an inch since they had fallen back into sleep. She sensed that the sun was brighter now, but she also sensed something else. A presence. One that was very near.

She opened her eyes and saw Ron standing at the base of the ottoman, looking at her and Harry with a look of utter shock on his face. As soon as he saw her eyes open he looked nervously away and said, "Good morning," bending down to pick up something non-existent from the carpet.

"Good morning," she said back to him as she shifted to disentangle herself from Harry. As she did Harry also awoke and looked around.

"Morning," he said as he adjusted to help in the disentangling. "What time is it?" he asked, noticing how high the sun appeared to be from the filtering of it through the window.

"Uh, 10:00," Ron said distractedly, now straightening the pillows on the armchair he had slept in.

Hermione stood up and looked at the book she had unsuccessfully read lying discarded on the floor. She picked it up and put it back in its bag while she gathered her other Diagon Alley purchases into her hands. She looked at Harry, still sitting on the loveseat, and saw him looking right back at her. Their eyes met for a brief second, then they both looked away as they remembered their rather intimate sleeping position, and the fact that Ron had witnessed it.

Hermione turned towards Ron and watched him continue to tidy up an already tidy living room. He was obviously uncomfortable with what he had seen, and this made Hermione uncomfortable.

"Um, I'm going back to my place to get ready for the day," Hermione informed her two best friends. "I'll be back later."

Hermione had left Harry's and Ron's and now stood in her own living room. Her mind was racing as she struggled to recall exactly what had happened.

_Well, I flirted with Harry, no, I just noticed his eyes, oh, all right, yes, I flirted with Harry, then I fell asleep and woke up all over him, well, he was all over me, too, and then we started touching each other, oh, no, that sounds bad, we were just enjoying being close, oh, that sounds bad, too, and then Ron saw us – oh dear, Ron saw us._

She collapsed onto her sofa, dropped her shopping bags, and put her head in her hands. What had just happened? She and Harry had walked the line between friendship and more than just friendship. What did this mean? Did she like Harry? Of course, she did. They had been best friends for seven years. No, she knew that wasn't what she meant. Did she _like_ him? She didn't know how to answer that question. She knew she had felt safe being close to him. She remembered enjoying being in his arms. She felt a chill run down her spine as she recalled the feel of his hands on her. Her eyes shut and she exhaled a shaky sigh at the memory.

She opened her eyes and stared at the bookcase against the wall. Although she knew it was futile, she wished that one of the books lining the shelves held the answer to her question – _Am I in love with Harry?_ She shook her head. This was one of those questions that no book could answer. For once her cleverness wouldn't be enough to solve this problem. Instead of her head, she was going to have to use her heart.

_Well_, she thought, rising to her feet and moving towards her bedroom, _it's not like being in love with Harry would be a bad thing._ After all, they were best friends. They enjoyed being together and knew exactly how to make each other laugh. They knew each other's hopes and dreams and encouraged one another. They were always there for each other, and they could count on each other to always come to one another's aid. They were very comfortable with each other. Obviously, she thought with a smile. They understood each other, probably better than anyone else, even Ron.

She stopped abruptly as she remembered the look on Ron's face. He looked at them in utter shock, his expression bordering on horrorstruck. He had looked as though she and Harry had betrayed him. All through their years at Hogwarts they had all been friends, and nothing more. It was virtually an unspoken law that no one was to develop feelings for one of the others, because, by so doing, one of them would inevitably become the "third wheel." Even in their fourth year, when Hermione believed that Ron had a crush on her, nothing ever happened. They all remained just friends, the inseparable trio. They liked it that way. And it worked for them.

_Oh no_, she thought, a feeling of dread permeating her mind. What if loving Harry meant losing Ron? He obviously felt uncomfortable just watching them lying together. What would he do if he ever saw them doing something more? How would he react? Would their friendship ever be the same? As much as she felt that loving Harry would be a good thing, she would never forgive herself if her actions cost her Ron's friendship. And, even worse, how could Harry truly love her knowing that his involvement with her had lost him his best friend? She knew she couldn't live with herself if she was the reason for the end of their friendship.

She momentarily closed her eyes and swallowed back the sadness creeping up to her heart. There was only one thing to do. She had to ignore the tugging at her heart and use her brain. How could she and Harry be happy if their other third was missing? No, they weren't ready for this next step. Or were they? She shook her head emphatically. It didn't matter, because Ron wasn't ready. Maybe someday, but not now. She and Harry would just have to put it on hold. They had to convince Ron that there was nothing going on between them. And then make sure that nothing did.

After Hermione had gotten herself ready for the Weasley gathering, she sat on her bed and stared at the wall. She thought about everything she had decided on earlier and tried to figure out how she felt about it. But no matter how hard she tried to feel something, anything, she just felt numb. For a brief moment she had thought she could actually allow herself to love and be loved. And then, just as quickly as the moment had come, it left. How could she have been so selfish? How could she have ever left Ron out of the equation? She knew that the three of them were destined to be friends from the beginning. And if a romance meant that one of them had to leave, then that romance could never be. Besides, who said that Harry actually loved her anyway? Maybe what had happened was just the result of hormones, not of true feelings of the heart. It was probably better this way. What if she had given herself to Harry and he had rejected her? No, it was better just to let it go.

As she sat musing she heard a faint voice calling her name. "Hermione? Hermione, where are you?" It was Ron.

Shaking herself from her trance, she raised her voice and said, "I'm up here, Ron!" She looked around her room and realized that she had been too busy thinking to put away her clothes from yesterday. A bit of a panic spread across her mind as she looked at the small mess piled at the side of her bed. _Wand. Wand. Where is it?_ She spied it across the room on her dresser. It was too far away. She heard Ron's footsteps right outside her door. She quickly slid the rumpled clothes under the bed with her foot just as Ron opened the door.

"Hi, Ron. Come in," she said, forcing a smile.

"Um, okay." He stepped inside her bedroom and put his hands in his pockets.

She stood for a moment watching him look intently at the carpet. After a short silence she said the first thing that popped into her head. "Where's Harry?"

His head shot up to look at her and she immediately regretted having asked. "He's… er… at home still… taking a nap, I think." Ron shifted uncomfortably and looked back down to the carpet. Hermione could feel it coming, and she tried to prepare herself for the inevitable. "I've been meaning to ask you… um… is there something going on between you and Harry? I mean, you two looked awfully… close… this morning. Did you guys… do stuff… last night? I mean, together? You know, it's really none of my business, and I'll just go now –. "

"Ron," Hermione began, ending his uncomfortable stream of consciousness questioning, "There's nothing going on between me and Harry." Her heart beat hard and fast, threatening to give her away. She forced herself to take a deep breath and ignore the pang of loss she felt overtake her as she spoke those words.

Ron looked up, a wave of relief washing over him. "Really?" he asked hopefully, looking as giddy as if Hermione had just given him a room full of Chocolate Frogs. "You two aren't, well, getting romantic?"

"No." Hermione shook her head, fighting back the tears she could feel welling up in her eyes.

"Oh, well, that's a relief. I mean, if you two wanted to get together and all I wouldn't stand in the way. But that might be a little awkward, don't you think? But let's not talk about that. Are you ready for my mum's party?" Ron sounded much more chipper since Hermione had denied having feelings for Harry.

Hermione, however, had turned away from Ron and gripped the side of her nightstand. Ron's reaction had confirmed her worst fears – Ron would never be okay with her and Harry together. He said he wouldn't stand in the way, but she knew he'd never truly approve. She knew she had to squash the feelings she had for Harry.

"Hermione, are you okay?"

She nodded, still standing with her back to Ron. She willed herself not to cry, but found herself losing the battle as a tear rolled down her cheek. At that very moment a light tapping came from the window by her nightstand, and she was grateful to see a tawny owl hovering outside. She recognized the owl as Horatio, her parents' owl. Although her parents were Muggles, they had bought an owl so they could contact her easier than using the Muggle post. Hermione, glad for the distraction, opened the window and Horatio landed lightly on her windowsill, holding out his leg for her. She removed the parchment from the owl's leg, and, after a light pat from Hermione, Horatio flew back out the window and soared into the sky.

Hermione unrolled the parchment and read the first line of it. "Dearest Hermione, I am so sorry to have to tell you this…." She read a few more lines before feeling all of the strength leave her body. Her legs gave way beneath her and she sank to the floor. She dropped the parchment as her hands flew to her face. She no longer hid the tears as her body shook with her sobs.

Within seconds, she felt arms fly around her from behind in a tight embrace. The discarded parchment at her side remained opened a bit revealing more lines of text. "Your friend, Victoria Spencer, passed away in a car crash this week." The arms around her tightened, and she knew Ron had read the parchment.

Hermione continued to shake as an endless tide of tears poured down her cheeks. She remembered her best friend from Muggle school, with dark, almost black, hair and dark eyes to match. She remembered her laugh and her beautifully infectious smile. Snatches of their friendship played through her mind as she grieved for the loss of her young friend. She hadn't seen Victoria in years, but Victoria was an integral part of Hermione's past. The tears flowed freely as she grasped onto a strong arm wrapped around her.

Ron. She couldn't remember ever being so close to Ron before. He just wasn't a very physical or openly affectionate person. That was Harry. But she was so thankful for his presence there. She was also thankful for his silence as he let her grieve.

She cried for the only true Muggle friend she had ever had. She cried for her sudden sense of loneliness. She cried for Harry and for the thought that he wasn't the one holding her. Her grieving became mixed up in all the emotions she was feeling as her tears fell in a confused jumble.

Ron continued to hold her in silence, and she rested her head back against his warm shoulder. As her tears began to subside she closed her eyes and silently thanked Ron for his presence. She never realized how strong Ron was, and she felt comfortable and protected in his arms. As they leaned back together against the side of the bed she breathed in deeply. She could smell the faint hint of Ron's cologne and it comforted her. She never realized how well she knew Ron's scent, since they had never really been this close before. She had the feeling she would never need to worry as long as he was near. She felt him lace his fingers through hers as she cleared her mind and drifted softly into exhausted sleep.

Hermione didn't know how long she had been asleep when she opened her eyes and realized she was still sitting on the floor with Ron leaning against her bed. She sighed as she felt her head against Ron's shoulder and listened to the slow, rhythmic pattern of Ron's breathing. She wiggled her fingers and felt them linked with Ron's. They hadn't spoken one word since before her parents' owl had delivered her mom's letter, and in that time, Ron had expressed concern, empathy, and love all through his actions. She was impressed by how much he had matured through the years. He still had his moments of childishness, but he knew exactly how and when to be caring. And she had needed that from him today.

She sat gazing at the window when a soft voice caught her attention. She lifted her head away from Ron's shoulder to see Harry standing uncertainly in her doorway.

"Sorry," he said apologetically, as though he had walked in on a moment he shouldn't have seen. "Ron?"

Ron opened his eyes at the sound of his name and looked at Harry.

"Ron, your mum would like a word with you. She's in our fireplace."

Knowing that his mum didn't like waiting with just her head in the fireplace to talk with anyone, he knew he'd better hurry. Before he stood up he looked at Hermione to make sure she was all right. She looked into his eyes and gave him a look of pure gratitude. He squeezed her hand before getting to his feet and apparating back to his living room with a crack.

Harry still stood in the doorway, taking in what he had just seen. Hermione gave him a weak smile and realized that her eyes must be puffy and red from crying.

"Did I interrupt something?" he asked hesitantly.

Hermione picked up the parchment and feebly held it out for Harry. He walked over to her and took the parchment from her. As he read, comprehension spread across his face, and he looked down to Hermione with deep concern.

"Oh, Hermione," he breathed as he bent down to join her on the floor. He knelt in front of her and took her hands in his. His eyes were empathetic and worried as he lightly stroked her hands with his thumbs.

Her eyes brimmed with tears as she realized how blessed she was to have two such wonderful friends. A single tear ran down her cheek and Harry tenderly brought his hand to her face to wipe it away.

Hermione made a move to stand and, almost instantaneously, Harry helped steady her as she rose from the ground. Harry's hands held her arms as she faced him. She allowed him to gently steer her into his arms as he engulfed her in a protective hug. Her arms reached around his body and she pulled him more tightly to her. She was so glad to have Harry near her again. He slowly stroked the hair flowing down her back and whispered, "Hermione."

She loved hearing him say her name. Something about his voice calmed her and helped her relax. He put his lips to the top of her head and softly kissed her hair. He then rested his cheek against her hair and asked, "Are you okay?"

She pulled her head slightly away from him to look into his eyes and saw his worried look. She managed a small smile and said, "I am now."

They continued to gaze into each other's eyes, neither of them seeming to want to break the connection. Finally, Hermione loosened her hold on him and said, "Well, I guess the party will be starting soon."

Harry gave her a slight frown of concern and asked, "Are you sure you're up to it?"

She smiled the first genuine smile she had been able to muster the whole afternoon and answered, "Yes, just as long as you're with me."

"Then I won't leave your side the whole day." He flashed her a heart warming smile and led her downstairs to the living room, firmly holding her hand in his.

Harry and Hermione were sitting on the sofa when Ron apparated back into the living room.

"Everything okay?" Harry asked, as Ron sat down on the other side of Hermione.

"Oh, yeah," Ron said, swatting the air with his hand. "She just wanted me to ask Hermione if she would bring some cinnamon. She just ran out."

"Oh, of course," Hermione said standing up. "Let me get it, and then we can leave." Just as Hermione returned from the kitchen the clock on the mantle began to chime. "Ah, 3:00. Just in time," she said as she slipped the jar of cinnamon into her pocket. "I believe that is our cue. Shall we?" She walked towards Harry and Ron, who were now standing, and held out a hand to each of them. With a loud crack they disapparated to the Burrow.

They reappeared on the side lawn just outside of the house. The sight that greeted them was warm and welcoming. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley stood by two long tables that had been pushed together to accommodate the Weasleys and their guests, each of them smiling with happiness and pride. Bill and Charlie, Ron's oldest brothers, sat at the end of the table, enjoying a round of butterbeers. Ginny, Ron's younger and only sister, sat cross legged on the grass playing with a black and grey tabby cat. The twins, Fred and George, were standing under a floating banner that had colored sparks shooting out of the corners. They all looked at the trio that had just arrived and shouted in unison, "Surprise!"

Harry looked shocked as Ron and Hermione turned to him and also said, "Surprise!" He glanced up at the sparking banner that read "Happy 18th Birthday, Harry!" as a huge smile spread across his awestruck face.

"Happy birthday, Harry," everyone said in random timing as they made their way over to him.

"You knew?" he asked Ron and Hermione as the crowd gathered around them.

"Of course. Why else do you think we didn't wish you a happy birthday earlier?" Ron answered, giving Harry a pat on the back while Hermione beamed at him.

Mrs. Weasley approached Harry and gave him a lung constricting hug. "Oh, Harry, happy birthday! Come now. Time for a birthday dinner." Mrs. Weasley guided him and the rest of the group over to the table where platters of pork chops, roasted chicken, and various potato and vegetable dishes had suddenly appeared.

"Tuck in!" Mr. Weasley said jovially as the chattering group began filling their plates with the temptingly aromatic cuisine.

Hermione looked at Harry and a warm feeling spread through her as she saw his eyes bright and his face alive with happiness. Harry had never had an official birthday party before. Well, not since his very first birthday, that is, when he still had his parents. But Harry couldn't remember that one. The following sixteen birthdays were spent unnoticed with his horrible Muggle relatives, the Dursleys. Now that the threat of Voldemort had been extinguished and he no longer needed the protection provided by staying at the Dursleys, he was free to spend his birthday anywhere and any way he liked. As Hermione continued to look at Harry and mentally congratulate herself on coming up with the surprise party idea in the first place, Harry looked at her and gave her a wink. She turned quickly to her plate and felt her cheeks getting warm. She smiled into a spoon full of mashed potatoes and hoped no one noticed her blush.

After everyone was sufficiently filled and contentedly lazy, they made their way from the table to a huge blanket spread under a tree with dozens of oversized, overstuffed pillows scattered across it. Ron and Harry collapsed onto the pillows while everyone else, except Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, sat carefully down, mindful of their very full stomachs. Mr. Weasley conjured up two extremely comfortable looking armchairs and he and Mrs. Weasley sank into them, smiling down at their happy children and their friends.

When everyone had settled into their pillows Harry looked around and said, "Thank you all so much. This has been the best birthday of my life."

"Well, Harry, it's not everyday that you turn 18 and begin a Ministry job," said Mr. Weasley. "By the way, we are so proud of all of you," he added, looking in turn to Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

"Oh, yeah," Bill interjected. "Percy said he's sorry he couldn't be here but he had a Ministry Summit to attend in Paris. He said he's sure to see you at work next week."

Percy, the third oldest Weasley child, had had an unfortunate falling out with his family at the height of Voldemort's return to power, but had reconciled with them during Ron's, Harry's, and Hermione's sixth year at Hogwarts. Although he was still quite ambitious at the Ministry (he had secured himself the Undersecretary to the Minister position), he was much more penitent and humble with his family.

"Wow. I can't believe we start tomorrow," Ron dreamily said.

"I know," Harry agreed.

"Two aurors in the family!" Mrs. Weasley looked at Harry and Ron and radiated pride. Harry grinned at her. Ever since his fifth year he knew that Mrs. Weasley considered him a son. Her comment reassured him of his place in the family.

"So, Hermione," Ginny asked watching her tabby cat bat at the string she held, "Are you excited to start tomorrow, too?" The cat caught the string between his paws and pulled it from Ginny's hands. She then looked up at Hermione.

"Oh, yes, of course," Hermione answered. She then let out an unconscious sigh which was not lost on anyone.

Fred raised an eyebrow and said, "Really? Well, what was that sigh about?"

Hermione stiffened momentarily as she realized that she had exhaled an audible sigh. She had wanted to keep it low keyed since she didn't want Harry and Ron riled up over it, but she had to explain herself.

"Well, it's nothing really," she said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear and trying to sound aloof. "It's just that…Malfoyisinmydepartment." She mumbled the last part rather quickly.

"What?" Ron bolted straight up. Obviously he could interpret fast mumbling. "That git's in your department? I swear, if he even --."

"Calm down, Ron," Hermione interrupted. "He's not a threat to me. I can handle him."

"But that Death Eater's son—"

"—is righting his wrongs," Mr. Weasley said cutting him off this time. "Remember, he lost a father and mother at the hands of Vol…Voldemort, too." Even though Harry had defeated Voldemort, some of the older generations still had trouble speaking his name.

"He's right, Ron," Harry added. "Malfoy did show me the escape route instead of handing me over to his dad or Voldemort."

Mrs. Weasley looked amused at her son's punctured indignation. "And he surrendered all of his father's Dark Wizard artifacts to the Ministry without being compelled to do so."

"But…but," Ron sputtered, "What if he's just fooling us all and is really out to undermine the Ministry?" Everyone just looked at Ron and gave him exasperated stares. "Oh, all right," he conceded. "But I still don't like the idea of him working so close to you. I swear, if he even thinks about hexing you, I'll kill him."

"Fine, Ron. You do that," Hermione said flatly.

Ron eventually cooled his temper while everyone relaxed in the lazy afternoon sunshine. Harry opened his presents, among them a magical watch with a programmable schedule and a box of Honeyduke's chocolate large enough to last him a month, then happily made a wish as he blew out all of the candles on his birthday cake. The afternoon and eventual evening were absolutely perfect as the group laughed much and thoroughly enjoyed one another's company. Fred and George ended the evening with a literal bang as they shot off innumerable fireworks that changed to every color of the rainbow, zigged and zagged across the sky, and even chased George down the hill into a nearby stream. The grand finale was a series of fireworks that shot into the sky and formed the words "Happy Birthday Harry" while singing the "Happy Birthday" song.

By the end of the evening, everyone was exhausted. As much fun as the day had been, Hermione, Harry, and Ron were looking forward to returning to their respective homes. They expressed their thanks and bid their farewells before apparating back home.

They arrived back in Hermione's living room feeling happy, but tired. Ron let out a big yawn as Hermione squealed and said, "Oh, Harry, stay right here. I have your birthday present upstairs." She ran towards the stairs and disappeared from sight. A minute later she walked back down the stairs holding a large package wrapped in brown paper. As she reached the bottom stair she asked, "Where's Ron?"

"Oh, he was falling asleep standing up so I told him to go home," Harry answered, his eyes wide as he stared at the huge gift in Hermione's arms. "Is that for me?"

"Of course it is. Happy birthday, Harry!"

He took the package carefully in his hands and set it on the sofa to unwrap it. He gently removed the string from around it and pulled away the paper wrapping. He stood with his mouth open staring at the broom display case.

"Oh…wow…Hermione," he managed to choke out. "You really didn't have to."

"I know that, silly. But I wanted to. I know how much you love your broomsticks, especially the Firebolt Sirius gave to you. I figured you needed a really good way to show it off. What better way than in a display case?"

Harry turned to Hermione, his eyes glistening. He shook his head and pulled her into a big hug. As she wrapped her arms around him in response he nuzzled his face into her neck and whispered, "You are an amazing person, Hermione. Thank you so much. Thank you for always being here for me."

"You're welcome," she whispered back as she melted into his embrace.

After what seemed like a blessed eternity Harry pulled back slightly to look at her, his arms still encircling her. He looked deeply into her eyes and said, "You will never cease to amaze me."

"I hope not," she replied as she caught her breath. He was so close. His green eyes sparkled as they neared hers. He lingered just mere centimetres from her. Her pulse raced as she felt his breath quicken. They looked at each other, contemplating their next course of action, but neither of them advanced. Finally, Hermione reached her head up and kissed him on the cheek. "Happy birthday, Harry."

After Harry left to return home, Hermione sat on the sofa and put her hand to her chest, willing the butterflies in her stomach to end their fervent flight.


	3. Chapter 3

The room was still and the first rays of morning light were silently filtering through the sheer curtained windows. Peace prevailed over the room where Hermione lay snuggled under a green flannel comforter, clearly basking in the warmth and safety of sleep. Her breathing was light and even as her mouth softly upturned in a moment of dreamy bliss. An unconscious sigh escaped her lips as they curved into an undeniable smile. She lay peacefully still as the smile continued to grace her warm, flushed face. The peace of the moment was palpable. Tranquility lingered through every inch of the room, defying the insistent urging of the ever brightening sunbeams to bring forth the inception of a new day. Then, as though hurtled through the unending firmament in a maelstrom of chaos, the tranquility was broken.

Hermione awoke with a start as her arms and legs flung outward trying to save herself from falling. As her body hit her mattress and rebounded, a loud sound accosted her ears.

"Good morning, sleepyhead!"

She fought to gain focus in her bleary eyes as her body continually bounded and rebounded upward. She sat bolt upright and came within inches of her unwelcome disturber.

"It's time to get up!" The red haired intruder bounced up and down on the bed with a look of sheer satisfaction plastered across his cheerful face.

"Oh, sod off, Ron!" Hermione said in pure disgust as she lunged forward to push him off the bed. Ron adjusted slightly to avoid Hermione's attack, and instead of pushing him off the bed, she succeeded in throwing herself off the bed. Ron broke into gales of laughter, which resulted in him collapsing on the bed in fits, as Hermione pounded to the floor. But instead of hitting the ground, she landed on something firm, yet pliable. She looked up as she heard a quick exhalation of air and found herself staring into the bespectacled eyes of Harry Potter.

She saw him smile broadly and felt his body shake beneath her as he laughed out, "Good morning, sweetheart."

She rolled off Harry with a disgruntled groan and lay next to him on her back. She covered her still unfocused eyes with her hands and grumbled, "Ronald Weasley, you intolerable git!"

Ron continued to laugh uncontrollably, but managed to choke out, "Now… you know… what… it feels like."

"Oh yeah? Well, feel this." Before Ron could even take in what she said, Hermione had sprung up on the bed and landed on top of him, trying to press all of the air out of him with her weight. Ron let out a winded "oof" but quickly began laughing again as Hermione's light frame did little to extinguish his air supply. His continued laughter only strengthened her resolve to put him in his place, despite the smile that was growing across her face.

"Okay, Weasley. You asked for it." That said, Hermione lunged at Ron and caught him off guard directly under his arms with her fingers. The laughter faded from his face and was quickly replaced by panic. Hermione exclaimed, "Ah-ha!" as she tickled him mercilessly. She had discovered in their sixth year, by accident, that Ron was extremely ticklish when she overheard him threatening Ginny with bodily harm if she ever told Hermione his weakness. Of course, Ginny wasn't afraid of Ron's idle threats, so she told Hermione anyway.

As Ron gasped for air he was just barely able to call out, "H-Harry? H-Help?"

In a second Hermione was thrown off of Ron and onto her back. "I thought you'd never ask," Harry said looming over her. His voice was playful but his eyes were wild with intent, his hands poised and ready to launch the attack.

"Harry, nooooo--," Hermione pleaded, then gasped for air as Harry attacked using the same tactic she had used on Ron. She was just as ticklish as Ron, and her eyes widened in dread as she saw a fully recovered Ron glaring playfully at her.

"Hold her down, Harry," Ron instructed.

Harry swung his right leg over Hermione and straddled her waist while Ron proceeded to squeeze the terribly ticklish spot just above her knee. Hermione screamed and squirmed, but to no avail as Harry's weight had her pinned firmly into the mattress. She kicked her legs out, but Ron returned mercy for mercy, grabbing the spot above her other knee.

Finally, out of breath and beginning to feel crazy, she wheezed, "Uncle!"

"Uncle? I'm not your uncle," Ron said puzzled.

"It means…stop…or…I'll…pass out."

Harry and Ron immediately stopped their playful assault when they saw that Hermione really did look like she might pass out. "Are you okay?" they both asked.

"Y-Yes," she sputtered, gulping in the air she had lost in the battle. "You prats!" she added, weakly batting Harry in the chest.

"Sorry, 'Mione," Harry said as he got off of her and lay down next to her.

"Yeah, but you were the one who started the war," Ron pointed out, laying down on her other side.

"I was…outnumbered!" she said defensively.

"But you know the rule," Harry began, softly tangling his hand in her hair. "If you're prepared to play, prepare to pay."

Hermione closed her eyes, still trying to return her breathing to normal. She relaxed under Harry's touch, enjoying the feel of his fingers running through her hair. "Well, next time I need a wake-up call I'll ask for one," Hermione noted warningly.

"Same here," Ron shot back.

"Fine," Hermione conceded, not wanting to spoil the better mood she was feeling since Harry's fingers began to work their own brand of magic through her hair.

"You'd better get up," Hermione heard Harry say through a slight fog.

"Mmm-hmm," she responded hazily, feeling intoxicated at Harry's touch. Suddenly her eyes flew open as she realized, "It's our first day at the Ministry!"

"Now she remembers. Honestly, Hermione. And you were Head Girl?"

She shot Ron a glare as she crawled over him and headed towards her dresser. "Well, now that I'm up, you'd better go downstairs, unless you want to see me strip down right here and head to the shower."

Neither Harry nor Ron moved an inch as they both looked at Hermione with dopey grins.  
She rolled her eyes and said, "Out. Out," while ushering them down the stairs. "Honestly," she said to herself as she walked towards the bathroom. "Those two need girlfriends." She grinned openly and shivered as she thought about Harry's fingers running through her hair.

Thirty minutes later Hermione descended the staircase, showered and dressed. She wore a light blue skirt with a small floral pattern that fell just to her knees matched with a crisp white blouse. Her new black Ministry robe was hooked softly below her neck and billowed open slightly to reveal her outfit. She had pinned her hair up into a loose bun with the ends spiraling out randomly around the bun. Softly spiraled tendrils fell gracefully from behind her temples and framed her excited face.

As she reached the bottom stair Harry and Ron looked up at her. Ron's jaw dropped an inch as he blinked several times at the lovely image in front of him. Harry's eyes roamed over her body from head to toe and back. As he looked appreciatively at her his face formed a small smile. Hermione felt the familiar rush of butterflies in her chest as Harry's eyes wandered over her. When his eyes finally met hers she smiled. His smile widened as he winked at her and saw a small pink flush tinge her cheeks.

"Well, I'm ready," she announced to the openly gaping boys in front of her.

"Um…uh…what? Oh yeah. Well, we should go then." Hermione held back a giggle as Ron broke from his trance and struggled to find his voice.

Hermione walked between Harry and Ron and took one of their hands in each of hers. "Here we go then," she said. "Next stop, the Ministry of Magic." She squeezed both of their hands, and with a loud pop, they were gone.

They immediately reappeared in a magnificently adorned hall. The floors were laid in a shiny dark wood that reflected the golden light from the ever-changing symboled ceiling. The walls were painted soft white and were inlayed with thin gold vertical stripes from ceiling to floor. In the middle of the hall stood a circular fountain. Around the outer circumference of the fountain stood golden statues of a witch, wizard, goblin, centaur, and house-elf. Out of the witch's and wizard's raised wands and the goblin's, centaur's, and house-elf's outstretched fingers shot glimmering streams of water that sparkled and changed colors. The streams of water shot upward and fell into a smaller circular basin positioned in the middle of the larger fountain. Lights glowing from under the rim of the basin continually changed colors, giving the overflowing water the appearance of a glistening rainbow waterfall.

"Wow!" Harry said admiringly. "They've really gone all out with the renovations." The long hall of the Ministry of Magic had been all but destroyed two years earlier in a duel between Voldemort and Dumbledore. The Ministry had tasked itself with renovating the entry hall to be more magnificent than it had ever been, and, judging by Harry's, Ron's, and Hermione's expressions of awe, it had succeeded.

As they stood admiring the fountain Ron suddenly stumbled a bit into Hermione and let out a short, "Ouch!" Hermione and Harry looked towards Ron to see what was wrong and saw Seamus Finnegan standing on Ron's foot.

"Hello and good morning to you! Oh, sorry Ron, mate." Seamus backed slightly away and removed his weight from Ron's foot.

Ron's grimace lessened, but he said, rather perturbedly, "Next time try to apparate somewhere other than on my foot, Seamus."

"Oh, sure, Ron," Seamus replied, adding, "But next time try standing somewhere other than where I'm going to apparate."

"Oh, yeah," Harry said, noting all of the witches and wizards suddenly popping up around them. "Let's get out of the way."

They swiftly dodged out of the way of another Apparator and walked past the fountain down to the end of the hall where stood a set of golden gates.

"Can you believe it's our first day?" Seamus asked excitedly. "I've been so anxious all summer to start. Me dad is so proud. I mean, he is a Muggle and all, but he's really fascinated with magical games and sports. Guess I got into the right department, eh? Hopefully I can get good seats for Quidditch matches. Dad hasn't missed an Irish National home game yet!" Seamus continued on in his happy chatting as the four of them made their way down the vast hall.

"So, which departments are you in?" he asked, pausing for air.

"Aurors," Harry and Ron chorused.

Seamus' eyes widened as he said, "Excellent! And you, Hermione?" He turned his head to look at her.

"International Magical Co-operation," she said.

"Fantastic! By the way, you look very nice today," he added with a smile.

"Thank you," she said, turning a small smirk to Harry. Harry just grinned back and kept walking.

When they reached the golden gates they continued on into a smaller hall filled with lifts. They gathered around one and entered the lift with a large group of other Ministry employees. They all packed into the crowded lift. As two more wizards entered the lift carrying a rectangular box emanating billows of bright green smoke, Hermione was pushed back against Harry. She turned her head back to look up at him and saw him smiling handsomely down at her. She turned back to the front of the lift and smiled, enjoying the feel of Harry pressed against her back.

As the golden grilles closed the lift slowly began its ascent. A cool, female voice resonated throughout the lift proclaiming the next floor. "Level seven, Magical Games and Sports—"

"That's me!" Seamus declared before the voice had completed her announcement. "I'll see you all later!" he shouted from the front of the lift. The two wizards with the box adjusted to let Seamus by, and he disappeared from sight.

Although Seamus' departure had opened up a bit more room in the lift, Hermione remained pressed against Harry. She felt giddy and excited as his fingers brushed lightly against hers, which rested against her hips.

The lift jolted upward and the voice announced, "Level six, Department of Magical Transport—"

When the lift opened two witches and a wizard exited, and another witch entered. Everyone in the lift shifted into the newly vacated space except Harry and Hermione, who continued to inconspicuously touch fingers.

As the lift yet again ascended the voice called out, "Level five, Department of International Magical Co-operation—"

Just as Hermione began to move forward Harry's arm caught her around the waist and he whispered into her ear, "Meet me tonight for a walk?" She nodded quickly and walked to the front of the lift before anyone noticed their exchange.

Once safely past the still smoking box and the golden grilles she turned around and said, "Good luck, Harry and Ron."

"You too," they echoed as the grilles slid closed.

She stood looking at the grilles and wondered why Harry had asked her to go on a walk with him. She felt the furious fluttering inside her and wondered if Harry had felt it, too. Maybe tonight they would discuss those feelings, and what to do about Ron.

As Hermione stood contemplating her upcoming evening she suddenly felt the presence of someone behind her. She spun around and saw the calm, smirking face of Draco Malfoy.

"Always pondering something, aren't we, Granger?" he asked smugly.

"Always poking our nose into other people's business, aren't we, Malfoy?" she shot back at him.

Before either of them could say anything else a middle aged wizard came down the corridor and addressed them. "Ah, our new Ministry Scholar recruits. Welcome to the Department of International Magical Co-operation!"

"My name is Graham Rector," the Ministry wizard said. He had short salt and pepper hair that lay smoothly against his head. His smile gleamed at them as he, in turn, shook both Hermione's and Malfoy's hands.

"You must be Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy. So glad to have you here. Please follow me and I'll take you to the conference room."

Hermione and Malfoy obediently followed the wizard as he led them past several cubicles and into a room at the end of the corridor. They walked inside and saw an oval shaped oak table with six witches and wizards gathered around it. The table was set with three trays displaying fruit and pastries, from which the conversing group were helping themselves. Graham cleared his throat to get their attention and the witches and wizards turned smiling to the new recruits.

"Good morning all," Graham cheerfully welcomed the group. "I would like to introduce you all to our new employees, Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy. Our new Ministry Scholar program begins today, and I would like for all of you to help Hermione and Draco become well assimilated into our department. Now, for the introductions."

Graham went around the table and introduced the veteran employees to the novices. The first, a witch who appeared to be in her fifties, was introduced as Jocelyn Boyles. She nodded approvingly at Hermione and Malfoy. The other witches and wizards each also nodded in turn. Jordan Roberts was a tall, thin, balding man with brilliant blue eyes. Roland Wilde appeared to be in his mid-twenties and flashed a winning smile when presented. Anna Ludlum, who looked barely older than Hermione, sat next to Roland and waved shyly, apparently taking in Malfoy's good looks. On the other side of the table Richard Slumpard raised his gray eyebrows and grinned while chewing a piece of biscuit. The final wizard, Olin Rodgers, looked deeply from Hermione to Malfoy, as though sizing them up.

"Well," said Graham, "Those are all of our introductions for today. We have eight more employees on assignment right now, and, of course, the Confederation of Wizards, British Seats, are at a conference in Malaysia. You'll meet them all once they return from their assignments, I'm sure. Anyway, please take a seat and we'll get down to business." Hermione sat in the chair next to Olin Rodgers and Malfoy in the chair next to her. "Help yourself to some fruit and pastries," Graham offered. Hermione obliged and helped herself to a crisp, flaky pastry filled with sliced fruit and cream.

"Well, now, let's see," Graham began, shuffling a few pieces of parchment in front of him. "Jocelyn, do you have a report for us from Sweden?"

"I do, indeed," the fifty-something witch responded. "Jordan and I finished up with the Swedish magical government on the laws surrounding the institution of magical games last week. They are anxious to set up their own Quidditch league, and we have forwarded their request to join the European Quidditch Federation to the Department of Magical Games and Sports."

"Excellent," Graham said, scribbling a few notes on a piece of parchment. "And they understand that we will be checking back with them in six months to make sure they are continuing to abide by the International Magical Secrecy Act?"

"Yes," Jocelyn replied.

"Now, Roland and Anna, what did Minister de la Vega have to say about Spain's part in the breaking of Europe's Statute of Muggle Secrecy?" Graham put down his quill and looked at the two twenty-somethings admiring Hermione and Malfoy.

"Well," Roland said, reluctantly tearing his eyes from Hermione, "he claimed that one of his Aides let the rules and operations of Quidditch slip to a Muggle soccer player at a pub. Apparently, they sent out an Obliviator just after the breech to modify the Muggle's memory. Unfortunately, the spell the Obliviator used was too strong, because the Muggle can't remember how to play soccer. Both the Minister's Aide and the Obliviator are under investigation." Roland turned back to Hermione and smiled as Graham scribbled more notes onto his parchment.

Hermione looked quickly away from Roland and glanced at Malfoy, who had just looked away from Anna and turned to her. Their eyes met for a piercing second before she looked back up to Graham, who was again shuffling parchment.

Graham looked back up at Olin and Richard and asked, "And you two are still working on the legalisation of Pillyhock breeding in Wales, correct?"

"Correct," Richard answered simply.

"Well, I suppose that covers everything for now. Any questions?"

Hermione, very much resembling herself in her Hogwarts classes, quickly raised her hand in the air.

"Yes, Hermione," Graham said smiling.

"What are we to do, Mr. Rector?" she questioned, indicating herself and Malfoy.

"Ah, yes, excellent question," Graham began, digging through his piles of parchment. He pulled out two books of parchment two inches thick and passed them down to Hermione and Malfoy. "You two are to study up on International Magical Law for the next two weeks. While here you will familiarize yourself with Jocelyn and Jordan's report on Sweden. In two weeks, you will go on assignment with them to Finland to help institute a similar program."

"Both of us?" Hermione asked, hoping Malfoy had a different assignment.

"Yes, both of you. There's nothing like immersion to acquaint yourselves with the Department." Graham looked appraisingly at them. "And, by the way, call me Graham. We're all on a first name basis here. It builds department unity. Anything else? Very well, meeting adjourned."

The department staff all stood and began filing out of the room. Graham approached his new employees and beckoned them to join him. "Let me show you around a bit. The Ministry's a large place, and it can't hurt to know your way around." The three of them followed the rest of the staff out of the room and went back down the corridor to the lift.

When the golden grilles opened Hermione and Malfoy both tried to enter the lift at the same time, bumping innocently into each other. They both stopped and looked at each other.

"Go ahead, Granger," he said in his cold drawling manner, a small smirk gracing his mouth.

"You mean, 'Hermione,'" Graham corrected. "Remember, department unity."

"Go ahead…_Hermione_," Malfoy said through gritted teeth, the smirk now quite lost.

"Why, thank you..._Draco_," Hermione responded in a syrupy voice, savoring the thought of what it cost him to use her first name. The grilles closed and they began their tour of the Ministry, Draco's usual smirk finding its way slyly onto Hermione's amused face.

As Graham, Hermione, and Malfoy, or, rather, _Draco_, ascended in the lift, Graham chattered happily about the department. They were terribly understaffed and thoroughly happy to have new employees. He knew that they would make excellent additions to the department. If there were ever anything they needed his door was always open. He paused in his monologue as the chains on the lift rattled to a stop and the grilles opened.

Hermione looked past the doors and saw dozens of witches and wizards ambling through the open foyer. Some had clipboards and barely noticed there was anyone else in the room. Others shuffled quickly around coworkers while juggling boxes emanating colourful billows of smoke or high pitched wails. One wizard even ran past the lift holding his hand over his head, brilliant blue sparks shooting out from between his fingers. Finally a wizard scuttled onto the lift trying to look composed and aloof. The left arm of his robes was ripped and his eyebrows poked out in all directions, giving off the distinct impression that they had been singed by flames. Hermione immediately recognized him as one of the wizards that had carried the box smouldering green smoke when she, Harry, Ron, and Seamus had first entered the lift together that morning.

She let out a small sigh when the grilles closed and they ascended upward again. She was relieved that Graham hadn't insisted they tour the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Several years with Hagrid in the Care of Magical Creatures class at Hogwarts had cured her of any desire to ever delve into the realm of magical creatures again.

The remainder of the morning seemed to zoom past as speedily as Harry on his Firebolt behind the Golden Snitch. They visited every floor, except of course for the hazardous Magical Creatures floor, meeting innumerable witches and wizards absorbed in various Ministry capacities. Everyone had seemed genuinely pleased to meet them, and Hermione could have sworn that she even saw Draco smile at the witches in the Improper Use of Magic Office. _Turning on the old Malfoy charm_, she thought. Undoubtedly it had saved his neck before while working some dreaded dark magic spell that he was never brought up on charges for, she imagined.

When they arrived back on level five Graham invited them to take their lunch breaks. "You have an hour. Feel free to visit the Atrium Café on the main level. It's rather lovely there. It's garden themed and has three waterfalls throughout emptying into a pool that winds its way to the centre of the café. We usually have several mermaids swim by to visit regularly, but I believe they are picketing right now until the café removes seahorse quiche from the menu. Personally, I think they should remove quiche from the menu entirely." He gave Hermione an affable wink. "If you'd prefer, however, feel free to Apparate to Diagon Alley or anywhere else. Just remember to be back in an hour. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to call on the International Magical Co-operation head from Brazil." With that he took his leave.

Hermione watched him walk down the corridor back to the conference room. She turned back to the lift and saw Draco already inside, waiting for the grilles to close. She slipped into the lift just as the grilles began to close, the gold metal clanging together as the lift commenced its motion. They rode the lift to the main level in silence.

When the grilles opened on the main level Draco strode languidly out and started down the grand hall to the Apparation platforms without so much as a backward glance. Soon his fair headed semblance disappeared behind a huge group of wizards that had spilled out of the next lift.

"Hmmpf," she grumbled. Not that she had expected Malfoy to invite her to lunch with him, or even to acknowledge her, for that matter, but the idea of "department unity" that Graham so highly espoused seemed rather dubious to happen between her and Malfoy. _I mean, Draco_, she mentally corrected.

With that she headed down towards the Apparation platforms. She had wanted to try the Atrium, but decided that picketing mermaids probably wouldn't exude the kind of ambiance she cared for. She decided the Leaky Cauldron would be as good a place as any for lunch, especially since she seemed to be craving their signature strawberry canapés. With that luscious thought in mind she stepped onto a platform and disapparated.

As Hermione walked through the back entrance of the Leaky Cauldron she was greeted by the incoherent buzz of the filled dining room. She looked around and saw scores of witches and wizards milling about waiting to be seated. Never before had she seen the Leaky Cauldron so crowded.

She glanced to her left and saw a witch waiting with her two daughters. The shorter of the two daughters was tugging on her mother's robes and whining in a small voice, "But, mum, I want a cauldron, too."

"Now, Emily, you'll be getting one of your own next year when you start school. But if you're a good girl I'll let you pick out a mood enhancing ring." She patted her daughter's arm while searching the dining room for empty tables. The young daughter looked somewhat placated, but continued to pout.

"Seat for one, dearie?" Hermione jumped slightly as she turned to face the witch just behind her. The witch's eyes glittered with amusement, and Hermione recognized her as Nancy, the serving witch she had met two days before.

"Oh, yes," Hermione answered.

"We're all out of tables," Nancy explained, "but we have one seat open at the bar if you'd care for it."

"That would be fine. Thank you." Hermione smiled gratefully at Nancy and followed her to the bar. She had forgotten that Hogwarts letters and supply lists had just been sent out. That would explain the busy dining room and all of the young children carrying cauldrons, books, and owls.

_My goodness_, she thought as she passed a boy no taller than the middle of her chest. _Was I that small when I began at Hogwarts? The students just keep looking younger and younger every year_. Nancy stopped in front of the crowded bar and motioned toward an empty stool. Hermione gave her another smile and began walking to the stool. She stopped abruptly as she looked at the stool next to hers. The occupant was sitting composedly on the stool holding a mug of butterbeer. His hair glinted white blond in a stray strip of light filtering through a nearby window. She closed her eyes, summoned up her resolve, and slid onto the stool.

"Hi, Draco," she said with more enthusiasm than she felt.

He turned his head toward her and looked carelessly over his shoulder. He turned back to the bar and took a long draw from his mug before saying in a perfect monotone, "Granger."

"Actually, it's Hermione," she corrected, a bit annoyed.

"No, actually, it's Granger," he returned. "We're not at the Ministry."

She looked at him and realized she was right. The whole "department unity" thing was doomed. "Fine, Malfoy," she sneered. "Two can play that game."

"It's not a game," he answered coolly, his voice steadily even. "Besides, I don't recall having invited you to play."

"Why are you so nasty to me?" The question slipped out of her mouth before her brain could stop her. She watched him turn again to her and saw his eyes flicker with something she couldn't quite identify. Instantly the flicker was gone and replaced by unconcern.

"Do you really want me to answer that?" he countered, still looking directly at her. His eyes penetrated her own, and she looked away as though he might be able to see into her thoughts and feelings if she didn't.

"Just forget it," she said, feeling a bit out of breath. She didn't often look Malfoy directly in the eye. Even less often had she looked deeply into his eyes. When she did it had been arduous and taxing, like sprinting 50 metres at a 90 degree angle. Afterwards she always felt the worse for wear.

As though he could tell he had unnerved her, his mouth broke into its typical smirk. "Didn't mean to wind you, Granger. I know my looks are breathtaking and all. Be careful when you look in my eyes. Girls have been known to fall in and drown there." He swirled his butterbeer in his mug casually.

"The only thing I could drown in would be your ego-dripping sarcasm, Malfoy," she replied less bitterly than she had hoped to and steadied herself against the bar.

"Mm-hmm," he muttered, sounding thoroughly unconvinced. He turned back to his drink as she willed her heart rate back to normal.

"So, what'll it be?" asked the bar wizard who had appeared from a side room.

"Oh, um, strawberry canapés and a butterbeer," Hermione said.

"Coming right up," he said as he poured a bottle of butterbeer into a mug and set it in front of her.

"And you," he said turning to Malfoy. "You haven't gotten your order yet?"

"No," Malfoy replied.

"So sorry." The wizard then took his wand and tapped the bar in front of Draco and then in front of Hermione. Immediately, two plates of strawberry canapés appeared before them, along with two sets of silverware and tea towels. "Enjoy," he said and ambled toward the other end of the bar.

Hermione looked briefly at Malfoy and irritably realized that she had at least one thing in common with him – strawberry canapés.

Neither of them spoke again while they finished their canapés and drinks. Hermione looked at her watch and realized that their lunch hour was almost up. She fumbled in her pockets for her money, and as she placed the money on the bar she saw Malfoy stand and walk toward the exit.

She quickly followed, keeping a safe number of paces behind him. As they neared the exit, a witch waiting for a table grabbed her young son to her as Malfoy strode by. She looked at him with a mixture of fear and loathing as she hissed in an undertone, "It's a horrible Malfoy. Too bad they weren't all killed off by you-know-who."

Hermione stopped dead in her tracks and looked at the woman with shocked contempt. "What a terrible thing to say," she said, glaring at the witch.

The witch glared back and defended, "It's true. They're horrible, the lot of them."

"They are horrible," Hermione granted. "But what a despicable thing to say about a boy who is trying to find his own way by not following in his father's footsteps. And to say it in front of your own son. It looks to me like the Malfoys aren't the only horrible ones around here." Anger flashed through her eyes as she swiftly exited, leaving the gaping witch dumfounded in her wake.

When Hermione reached the fresh air outside, she leaned against the façade of the Leaky Cauldron and rested her head against the hard brick. She was breathing deeply and felt her heart racing. What had possessed her to say those things, to so vehemently defend Malfoy like that? She didn't even know if what she'd said had been true, although she hoped it was true. Even if it wasn't true and Draco was just as evil, just as cold and calculating as his father, no one had a right to say such deplorable things about him or anyone else. Draco may be awful and mean and hurtful, but she just couldn't believe that he would allow himself to turn into all of the evil things that had encapsulated his father. No, he wasn't like that. He was no gentle breeze on a carefree spring day, but he certainly didn't deserve to die.

She breathed deeply and took a step away from the wall. She hoped he hadn't heard what that awful witch had said. He knew that his father was evil and that he was no picnic himself, but somehow Hermione thought that having it all put into words made it more real, more awful, more…true. And she didn't want Draco believing that he was destined for evil just because he was a Malfoy. She really didn't know why she had gotten so worked up about it. It was really nothing worse than Ron had ever said about him. Besides, Malfoy would probably just sneer and laugh in her face at being defended by a "dirty mudblood." _Honestly, it's not like Malfoy is any of my concern anyway._

She tried to push it out of her mind as she returned to work and Graham familiarized his new employees with the running of the department. She had done fairly well with ridding herself of the memory until, at the end of the day, Graham bid them farewell and Draco turned to her and…smirked?

No. He smiled.

Hermione was completely stunned. Did Draco Malfoy just…smile at her? No, she must have imagined it. Draco Malfoy did not smile at anyone, let alone a Muggle-born Gryffindor. Smirk, yes. Scoff, absolutely. Smile, definitely not. But what else could it have been? Was he mocking her? Was he trying to unnerve her again? She was very confused now. There had been no mocking behind that smile, if that's what it had been, no malice. So what was it? _Temporary insanity, probably. I suppose,_ she thought, _he could have just been trying to be nice. Ha! Now I sound insane._ Aha! That was it! He was trying to drive her crazy. Well, it was working.

She Apparated into her living room, still perplexed by Malfoy, and was met by a heavenly fragrance wafting in from the kitchen. She breathed in the comforting smell of roasted chicken and biscuits and drifted thankfully through the kitchen door.

A young woman stood at the stove peering into a pot, her soft auburn curls falling gently over her shoulders. Hermione sank into a chair at the table and looked gratefully at the angel of mercy stirring a wooden spoon around a copper bottom stockpot.

"Susan, you are an absolute dear."

The red tressed chef turned her head and smiled. "Hermione! I wondered when you'd be home."

"I didn't know you were planning on making dinner. I thought for sure I was destined to subsist on a day-old baguette and left over cheese cubes. This is great. Thanks." Hermione flashed her a thankful grin.

"Don't mention it," Susan responded with a wave of her hand. "That's what roommates are for."

"So, how have you been?" Hermione asked. "I haven't seen you in a few days."

"Oh, I've been good," Susan said, sitting in a chair opposite Hermione. "My aunt wanted me to spend the weekend with her. She gave me all kinds of tips for working with the Magical Law Enforcement Department. Apparently one of the wizards in the department is crying nepotism. She wanted to warn me about him."

"That's ridiculous!" Hermione said. "You got into that department based on your application and your grades, not because your aunt is head of the department."

"I know," Susan sighed. "Aunt Amelia said that this wizard is just miffed because he was passed over for department head when she got the appointment."

"I'm sorry," Hermione offered. "How was your first day?"

Susan perked up a bit and replied, "Oh, it was great! Everyone was so kind and friendly. Well, except for that one wizard, that is." She rolled her eyes. "I have a six week training course to complete and then I'll be apprenticed to a journeyman for twelve more weeks. After that, I'll officially be made a Magical Law Enforcement Officer."

"That's fantastic!" Hermione smiled brightly at her.

"So, tell me about your day. How was working with Draco Malfoy?" Susan's eyes danced with amusement and curiosity. "My aunt told me about that arrangement, too."

Hermione gave her a friendly smirk and replied, "It actually wasn't bad. We got a Ministry tour and department briefing. Everyone was really friendly in our department, too. And we got our first assignment."

"Really? Do tell."

"Well," Hermione began, "We have to familiarize ourselves with International Magical Law for the next two weeks. Then we've been assigned as consultants to the Finnish Government."

"Meaning…?" Susan asked with raised eyebrows.

"We'll be going to Finland to help them with the laws on instituting magical games."

Susan's eyes widened and she let out an amused giggle. "Oh my. You and Malfoy on a foreign assignment together? Does your department head realize what a move like that might result in? My first assignment could very well be investigating a double homicide."

Hermione smiled weakly and said, "I know. It will be a miracle if we don't kill each other."

"Yes, so try not to. I'd miss you."

Just then the kitchen timer let off a shrill _Ding!_, and Susan returned to the stove.  
"Dinner's ready," she announced.

After dinner, Hermione and Susan planted themselves onto the sofa, both anxious to begin their studying. Hermione settled into the cushions with her two-inch thick book of parchment while Susan lost herself in _Enforcing Magical Law_, by Jingo Rantwood.

Hermione had just started on chapter two, "The Beginnings of European Magical Co-operation," when she heard a light tapping on the window. She looked up and saw Harry's snowy owl, Hedwig, perched on the window sill. She went over to Hedwig and untied the parchment from her outstretched leg. With a soft hoot Hedwig flew off the window sill and back into the evening sky. Hermione unrolled the parchment and read the few lines scribbled across it.

_Hermione,_

_Meet me at the entrance to Starlight Lane at 7:30. See you then._

_Harry_

Hermione looked at her watch. It was 7:00. She had a half an hour. Susan still seemed absorbed in her book, so Hermione went upstairs to her room to change.

Twenty-five minutes later Hermione reentered the living room wearing a pair of well loved jeans and a light pink short sleeved sweater over a close fitting white spaghetti strap tank top. She was about to tell Susan she was going out for a walk when she realized Susan had fallen asleep on the sofa, her book lying open next to her. Hermione crept to the sofa and put a light blanket from the armchair over Susan, then quietly crossed the living room to the front door and noiselessly let herself out.

Once outside she looked up at wisps of pink and purple streaking the horizon like taffy pulling across the expansive sky. She breathed in the pleasant evening air and smiled out toward a solitary figure leaning against the stone archway heralding Starlight Lane. Harry. She quickened her pace, shortening the distance between them with an unconscious rapidity. She slowed her stride as she approached him, but her heart raced as his nearness sent her into a flurry of excitement. He stepped away from the archway and turned to face her as she stopped in front of  
him, the heat of their bodies dancing off each other in a choreography of unexpressed desire and expectation.

"Hi." Harry's soft voice was calming, as sultry as the warm evening breeze which lifted his dark hair and tousled it in a boyish playfulness. His hands were sheltered deep in his pockets, keeping them at bay so as to not too quickly disclose the anticipation that flicked across his emerald eyes.

"Hi," she returned, her heart catching ever so slightly in her throat. As she peered into his familiar face she saw his mouth curved into a heart melting smile and his eyes sparkling with the fire of life and a promise of endless tomorrows. Just as she thought she would fall into the seemingly endless depths of his eyes he spoke and broke her from her dreamy rumination.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet me. Would you like to go for a walk?" He looked at her with endearing hopefulness, and she nodded her head in response.

Starlight Lane was a quaint little neighborhood. Small two-story homes lined either side of the street. Narrow paved walkways led from the street to the front doors. The yards were well manicured and flowers in bloom nodded happily at passers-by. Wrought iron lamp posts stood outside each house, casting an ethereal glow down on the grass surrounding them. The street itself was narrow, cobblestones spread across it like the smooth stones lining the floor of a riverbed. Everything about the neighborhood exuded a magical air, from the owls swooping by looking for their nightly quota of mice to the high-pitched buzzing noise of the decorative fairies  
flitting from rosebush to rosebush. Anyone passing the stone archway marking the entrance to Starlight Lane would know immediately that this particular street was alive with magic. That's why strong Muggle protection charms had been cast across the archway. Any Muggle who would look through the archway would see nothing but a crumbling arch and an eerily abandoned warehouse. One look at the non-existent warehouse would bring to the Muggle's mind something terribly important that had to be seen to immediately. Any Muggle who was able to pass under the archway would instantly lose his memory of the previous and ensuing five minutes and wander away from Starlight Lane in a confused temporary amnesia.

Harry and Hermione walked down the cobblestone lined street keeping an even pace with one another. On the left side of the street they passed the homes that served as living quarters to the Ministry Scholar appointees. Hannah Abbott and Padma Patil shared the first house, followed by Hermione and Susan sharing the second, and Harry and Ron sharing the third. After that came Dean Thomas' and Seamus Finnegan's house. The final house on the left was occupied solely by Ernie MacMillan, who didn't mind living alone since his roommate would have been Draco Malfoy, had he not decided to stay at Malfoy Manor instead. The houses on the right were for those in their second and third years of Auror training. Each house radiated a warm light from the windows. Harry and Hermione barely noticed their surroundings, however, as they moved deliberately down the street.

At the end of the short street they stopped in front of a park. Grass covered the ground and spread out for several acres. Winding pavement etched itself across the incurably green grass, more wrought iron lamp posts lining the walkway. In the center of the grass-encompassed square stood a triangular fountain shooting up geysers of multi-colored water. The fountain emitted a golden light that lit up the surrounding area with a misty brilliance.

Harry moved toward the fountain and Hermione followed, trailing half a step behind him. When they reached the fountain they both sat on a granite bench facing the ongoing water show. Harry pulled his hands from his pockets and clasped them together, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He cocked his head toward Hermione and asked with a smile, "So, how was your day?"

Hermione recounted her department meeting and Ministry tour to Harry, leaving out as much as possible about the living anomaly that was Draco Malfoy.

When she told him about her foreign assignment he raised his eyebrows in surprise and questioned, "You're going away? For how long?"

He looked like a little boy being told that he had to give away his most beloved toy. She smiled endearingly at him and answered, "It took the department two weeks to set it up properly in Sweden. But maybe, since this will be the same type of set up, we can shave a few days off of it."

"Oh," he said sounding a bit dejected.

She smiled at the thought that he would miss her. She turned her body to him, tucking her left leg under her, and rested her elbow against the back of the granite bench. "And how about you?" she asked. "How was your day?"

"It was fantastic," he said, now looking less like a little boy who had lost his toy and more like a little boy who had been given an unlimited riding pass at an amusement park. "We met all the Aurors at Headquarters, and then we went to the training annex across the alley at the back of the Ministry. We have classes four days a week, and on Fridays we team up with a tenured Auror for practical study. I'll be teamed up with Kingsley Shacklebolt and Ron will be teamed up with Tonks." Harry went on about their course of learning and the opportunity for "field trips" across the world. Hermione couldn't get over the fact that he looked exactly like a kid recounting all of the gifts he'd received on Christmas morning, and smiled at his enthusiasm.

"Well," he said after a near ten minutes of happy jabbering. "I'm sure glad today went well for both of us."

"Me too," Hermione said.

"Want to walk around the park?"

"Yes," she answered.

They both stood and began to walk down the pavement. Before they had moved two steps Harry caught her hand in his, interlocking his fingers with hers. His hands were warm and soft, yet remarkably strong against her slender fingers. She looked at her fingers laced through his and then looked at his face. He grinned sheepishly as he lightly squeezed her hand. She smiled an identical smile, and they walked on in silence.

Hermione enjoyed their walk, enjoyed feeling Harry's hand in hers. Occasionally she would glance his way and see him looking back at her. A flattering pink flush stained her cheeks and an unstoppable grin graced her mouth.

Finally, as they rounded a section of pavement away from the lamp posts, Harry whirled in front of Hermione and stopped. Hermione halted just before walking into him, leaving mere centimetres between them.

"Hermione…" Harry reached his free hand up to her hair and ran his fingers through her full chestnut hair. From there his hand traveled down the side of her face and his fingers slid silkily down her neck. He lightly traced the outline of her tank top with his index finger, sending a shockwave of excitement throughout her. He then touched her shoulder and moved his hand down her arm until he caught her hand in his.

Hermione's breath came in short spurts and she felt that the weakness in her knees may overtake her strength if Harry continued to touch her with his electricity.

"Hermione," he began again, his voice strangely husky, yet soft. "We've been friends for a long time." He looked down at their clasped hands and squeezed them, as though taking strength from their connection.

"Yes, we have been, Harry," Hermione added in an encouraging tone. He looked up at her as she spoke, and she felt his warm look searching her eyes. She squeezed his hands back in response, encouraging him to continue.

"Like I said, we've been friends for a long time." Again he stopped speaking, but his eyes remained fixed on hers.

She felt him edge closer to her, his warm breath nearing her own. Her eyes flickered unwittingly to his mouth, sensing that his eyes had done the same. Hermione's mind reeled, Harry's closeness penetrating her mind, intoxicating her with a dizzying lightness. Excitement leapt between them, like a fire flaring up to consume two twigs lying in its path. They leaned in closer, their lips so close nothing but air could come between them.

"Harry!" Hermione jumped. A voice that was not her own cut through the silent air, jolting Harry and Hermione back away from each other. They looked around and saw a figure running toward them across the grass. As the figure neared a lamp post Hermione saw unmistakable red hair bounding toward them.

"Harry!" the voice shouted again, this time clearly recognizable as Ron's.

"What?" Harry said a bit sharply, irritation seeping out of his tensed body.

"This just came," he panted, out of breath from running. He held a piece of parchment in his outstretched hand.

"What is it?" Harry asked less harshly, seeing a look of concern on Ron's flushed face.

"It's from the Ministry," Ron answered, still breathing quickly. "Something's happened. We have to pack our bags and report to Headquarters immediately. We've been called on assignment."

Harry's face whitened. He turned to Hermione, a silent apology in his eyes. She smiled a weak but forgiving smile at him, and the three of them dashed back to Harry's and Ron's house.


	4. Chapter 4

"Where is it?"

Ron dashed madly about his room, emptying drawers and upturning his wastepaper basket in haste. He had managed to pack a duffle bag with a couple changes of clothes, a few toiletries, and The Auror's Handbook. He hurtled in a dangerous whirlwind across the floor, leaving a devastation of strewn clothing and books in his wake.

In the next room, Harry had just finished stuffing an extra Ministry robe in his bag. He struggled to pull the zipper closed, jiggling the pull tag back and forth until it unstuck and slid to a close. He sat on his bed for a moment and stared blankly at the wall, breathing heavily.

Hermione stood in the hallway observing the activity in both bedrooms, allowing the wall to hold up her tired and worried body. She watched Ron whirl about like a tornado and Harry remain placidly calm, like a ship in a breezeless port. She marveled at the two ends of the spectrum that were her two best friends and a small lump formed in her throat. At that moment she realized that they were going into the unknown, into possible danger, and that for the first time since they had met those many years ago she wouldn't be with them. She knew that they  
were fully capable of handling themselves, even without proper Auror training, but they had never embarked on an adventure, dangerous or not, without her. She had known that choosing International Magical Co-operation over being an Auror would mean an eventual temporary separation at some point, but she hadn't realized it would come so soon. An invisible vice had begun to constrict slowly around her heart as she tried to swat away an impending feeling of dread. She had never had to send Harry or Ron off into the face of uncertainty alone before, and the anxiety was welling up inside her at lightning speed.

"Where _is_ it?"

Ron's frantic voice shook Hermione from her deep musings, and she looked up to see the tornado stop in front of an oak desk with books and parchment littered carelessly across it. Ron jerked the top drawer open and fumbled around inside it. After about thirty seconds of insane rummaging Ron pulled out a small shiny round object and held it to his chest. He breathed out a shaky but relieved sigh and muttered, "Thank goodness."

"Everything okay, Ron?" Harry asked as he poked his head out of his door and around the door jamb into Ron's room.

"Oh, um, yeah," he called out while shoving the object quickly into his robes. "Everything's fine. Just had to find one last thing."

"What was that, Ron?" Hermione softly enquired.

"Nothing," Ron said a bit hastily, a warm burgundy slightly staining his cheeks.

Hermione and Harry both raised their eyebrows at him in question.

"Oh, well, it was n-nothing, really," he stammered shyly. "It's just a good luck charm." He looked up at them through faintly lowered eyes.

Hermione smiled. She thought it was endearing for Ron, an Auror in training and a fantastic wizard, to be so intent on taking his good luck charm with him. "I'm glad you found it," she said simply.

He grinned meekly at her and picked up his duffle bag.

The three made their way down to the living room in silence, only the sound of their footfalls on the stairs audible.

"Well—" The three of them giggled through the tension laden air as they realized they had all spoken the same thing at once.

"I can't believe you're going without me," Hermione continued, disappointment and worry dripping from every word.

"I know," Ron and Harry answered.

Hermione walked to Ron and put her arms around him. He responded in like fashion as they hugged each other.

"Take care of yourself, Ron," she said.

"I will," he told her as they released each other.

She then walked to Harry and put her arms around him. He instinctively drew her into a deep hug, his arms folded safely around her back. She held him tightly, breathing in his scent, trying desperately to memorize his shape, his strength, his touch. When he released her she looked deeply into his eyes, those deep, emerald green eyes. Those eyes that had known too much sorrow and despair and loss much too early. Those eyes that made her heart race and her mind swim. Those eyes that somehow told her everything would be just fine.

"Harry, be careful." It was a plea as well as an admonition.

Harry smiled gently down into those beautiful chocolate brown eyes and tenderly brought his hand to her cheek. She unconsciously leaned her cheek closer into his hand, reveling in the comfort she found there.

"I will be," he assured her. He brought his face closer to hers and softly pressed his lips to her cheek. Hermione closed her eyes in response and a small sigh escaped her as he slowly drew his lips away from her. She opened her eyes and looked dreamily up at him. "I'll write when I can," he promised. "Oh, and please take care of Hedwig for me," he added. "I don't think it would be wise for me to take her."

Hermione nodded at his request, not trusting her voice to answer him without releasing the storm of tears teetering on the edge of her emotions.

"Well, Harry, we'd better go," Ron quietly urged, recognizing the tender moment he had just witnessed.

Harry nodded while continuing to look at Hermione. He slowly stepped away from her and reached down for his bag, never breaking eye contact. "Okay, Ron, let's go."

Ron picked up his duffle bag and looked at Hermione. She was still gazing at Harry, as though he was the only tangible thing in the room. Ron smiled resignedly and mustered a weak smile before saying in an almost imperceptible voice, "See you, Hermione." Crack! Suddenly Harry and Hermione were the only ones in the room.

Harry smiled at Hermione and said confidently, "I'll see you again soon, Hermione."

She nodded and smiled back. Of course she would see him again soon. She trusted Harry and she believed him. And he had never been wrong.

"Take care of Ron, too," she said, suddenly feeling his absence.

"I will," he told her, continuing to smile.

She stared at him, fixing his smile in her mind, the curve of his lips, the light in his eyes.

Crack!

And then she was alone.

xxxxx

Hermione walked through her front door in a daze. She had just sent Harry and Ron off to who-knows-where to do who-knows-what for who-knows-how-long. Being without them felt foreign. Of course she had been without them before during summer holidays, but she always knew where they were and that they were safe. Now she had neither assurance to ease her mind.

As she walked through the living room she vaguely noticed that Susan was no longer on the sofa. _She must have gone up to bed, which is what I'm going to do_, Hermione thought.

She trudged up the stairs slowly, her feet pounding each step like a pallet of bricks. She was tired, she felt numb, and she didn't really care if she woke up Susan with her only-child-who-didn't-get-her-way stomping. After she walked what seemed to be a mile of beige carpet she entered her bedroom. She walked automatically toward her bed, instinctively kicking off her shoes. Just as she was about to lie down she noticed a folded piece of parchment on her pillow. She grabbed the parchment and opened it up.

_Hermione,  
Had to report to the Ministry. Don't have details yet. Will talk with you tomorrow.  
Susan_

Great. Even her roommate had abandoned her.

Hermione threw herself unceremoniously across her bed and stared up at the ceiling. Harry was gone. Ron was gone. Susan was gone. Her parents were even away on a business trip in Scotland. For the first time in her life, Hermione felt completely alone.

The air hanging around the halls and corridors of the Ministry was charged with a definite electricity as Hermione made her way to the Department of International Magical Co-operation. Voices were hushed, and whispered buzzing swarmed the air like bees protecting their coveted hive. A decidedly anxious cloud of speculation hung invisibly over every inch of the Ministry.

Hermione hadn't slept well. She had repeatedly shaken herself awake with dreadfully nonsensical dreams about Harry and Ron. The dreams had not been particularly scary or foreboding at first, but in each dream Harry and Ron had left her and she had been alone in unfamiliar surroundings, searching unsuccessfully for her way home. In her last dream Harry and Ron had left her in a narrow enclosed stone hallway. Oddly shaped heads of snakes in high relief poked from out of the stone walls. As she moved cautiously through the hallway the snakes began to writhe, lashing their forked tongues at her. She ran at top speed, ducking her head to avoid their strikes. When she reached the end of the hallway the door in front of her flew sharply open –. And she had awakened, breathless and impossibly tangled up in her sheets. She decided then that she had had enough dreaming for one night.

She thought that dressing herself up and trying to make herself look extra pretty would help her to feel better, but as she double checked her lipstick in a mirror hung between two of the lifts she couldn't help but notice the small dark circles ungracefully settled below her eyes. She heaved a disappointed sigh and decided that the day was destined to be incredibly long and tedious.

As she exited the lift and crossed the level five foyer she saw Graham ushering the department employees into the conference room. She quickened her pace and caught up to him just as he turned around toward her.

"Ah, Hermione," he said by way of greeting. "Just in time for an impromptu department meeting." He motioned for her to join the others inside the room.

Hermione stepped cautiously through the doorway. The other employees were just sitting down at the oval table as Graham pulled the door shut and rounded on the waiting group. Hermione quickly slid into empty chair next to Mal, Draco.

"Rough night?" he asked in an extremely low voice.

Apparently her efforts to cover up her exhaustion with a cute outfit and well placed make-up hadn't fooled him, either. She didn't answer.

"Well," Graham began, his robes noticeably wrinkled and his eyes heavily lidded, "as many of you may know by now, something is afoot."

"Something besides that thing shoved into his shoe?" Draco whispered just loud enough for Hermione and Anna, who was seated on his other side, to hear. Anna began to giggle but stopped immediately when Roland kicked her gently under the table.

Graham, who had apparently missed the irreverent exchange, continued. "Last night the Ministry received intelligence that has caused us to heighten our security measures. I'm not at liberty to discuss the matter in depth, but I can tell you that many Aurors have been dispatched to other countries and that many of our Magical Law Enforcement officers have been strategically positioned across the UK. Also, Ministry guests, this includes any visitors and even family members of employees, are not allowed to enter the Ministry for any reason until after we have fully instituted our increased security system. This should only take a day or two, but until then I must encourage you to take your lunch breaks in the building and ask you not to leave until the end of the work day. Normally I like you to be able to come and go in the course of your responsibilities as you please, but until the security measures are firmly in place I must ask you to comply."

The employees seated around the table were deafeningly silent and raptly attentive during Graham's speech.

"Now, what does that mean for our department?" he asked in rhetoric. "It means business as almost usual. Instead of Apparating to meetings outside of the Ministry, you must hold Floo appointments. If you need to establish a conference line, the Floo Network Authority is ready and waiting to accommodate you. They can link up to six fireplaces at one time. Of course, once the security system is up you are free to Apparate during business hours again. Now, for those of you with foreign assignments," he looked pointedly at Hermione and Draco, "you will meet with the Aurors stationed here twice before you leave. They will acquaint you with the country you are going to and give you information about the Magical Law Enforcement there. Now, with any luck, this will all be dealt with and contained before week's end and our security level will return to normal. However, until then, we must go forward at our current heightened security level."

Hermione's eyes finally drifted from Graham to the other employees around the table as she noticed some of them shift uncomfortably in their seats.

Graham noticed, too, for he added, "Now, I know you have questions, but I'm afraid I have told you all I can for now. If you need clarification on any of your responsibilities in light of this new information you've just received, please come see me in my office. Meeting adjourned."  
Graham walked swiftly to the door and went straight to his office, followed quickly by Olin Rodgers, a scowl firmly in place. One by one the other employees rose from the table and began discussing the new turn of events.

Hermione, however, remained seated, staring stonily at the table. Had she just heard right? Aurors were being sent abroad? Were Harry and Ron among them? Her breathing began to quicken as she darkly envisioned them walking through the looted and smoldering streets of foreign countries. Just then her breath hitched in her chest as she thought of something. Susan. She was in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. She would know where Harry and Ron were. Without preamble, she rose from her seat and swiftly left the room, making a beeline for her cubicle.

Once there, she sank into her padded swivel office chair and reached into her desk for a piece of violet Ministry parchment and a quill. She quickly began to write, for once in her life not giving a flying fwooper as to the state of her penmanship.

_Susan,  
Please, if you can tell me, have Harry and Ron been assigned out of country? If so, where? Please respond soon.  
Thank you.  
Hermione_

She extracted her wand from her robes, said, "Susan Bones, Department of Magical Law Enforcement," and tapped the parchment. Immediately the parchment began to fold and refold itself until it formed a paper airplane. It zoomed around the side of her cubicle and flew directly for the lift. The airplane quickly touched its nose to the lift button and sailed silently around the foyer, doing loop-de-loops and figure eights. When the grilles opened the paper airplane jetted inside and flew calmly around the ceiling of the lift. When the grilles closed Hermione leaned back into her chair and sighed.

At the same moment a _whoosh_ of black robes blurred past her and settled on her desk. "You look like you could use a cup of coffee." Hermione looked up at the talking blur which materialized into Roland. He had his hands propped up on the edge of the desk and he leaned casually back against it. His sandy blonde hair hung rakishly long around the top, falling carelessly over more closely clipped hair around the sides and back. His hazel green eyes flashed mysteriously as a playfully engaging smile spread across his strong mouth. He easily removed his wand from his robes and flicked it lightly at the desk. Hermione looked at the desk and watched as a shiny blue mug appeared, a black steaming liquid filling it almost to the brim. She leaned forward and inhaled the tempting smell of the fragrant beverage.

"Sugar? Milk? Cream?" Roland asked.

"What? Oh," Hermione responded looking back at him. "No thanks. Actually, I don't drink coffee. But I love the smell of it."

"Suit yourself." Roland continued to drape himself over her desk. "You know, this whole increased security business will probably pass over soon. It's really nothing to worry about. We're safe here," he said, completely misinterpreting her obvious agitation. She wasn't worried about her safety at home. She was worried about Harry's and Ron's safety elsewhere. Roland leaned forward a little and said, in a more hushed tone, "If you need anything, my desk is always there for you. I'm just two rows down. I'd be happy to be of _assistance_ to you in any way." He winked roguishly at her and sauntered away, leaving an open mouthed Hermione staring at her recently vacated desk. He had purposefully emphasized the word "assistance," and Hermione wondered if she had just been hit on.

A scoff in the cubicle to her left shook her from her thoughts. "Pretty boy," said a mildly disgusted voice.

Hermione turned to look at the owner of the voice and saw Malfoy slowly shaking his head. "Giving yourself compliments again, Malfoy?" she bristled, somewhat annoyed that he had heard Roland's bold come on lines.

"Draco," he cooed in an irritatingly smooth voice. His mouth drew itself into its familiar smirk as he said, "Actually, I like to refer to myself as 'devilishly handsome.'"

"Oh, is that right?" Hermione snickered, realizing that Draco may just have met his arrogant match.

"You'd better watch yourself," he counseled off-handedly. "I can imagine just the kind of 'assistance' that pretty boy would be happy to give you."

"Why, Draco," Hermione teasingly purred, "I didn't know you cared." She boldly batted her eyelashes at him for extra effect.

"Oh, come off it, Granger," he said, a mild scowl creeping over his face. "You know as well as I do that guy's trouble."

"Really?" she said, feigning innocence. She then lowered her voice and whispered rather brazenly, "Or are you just afraid that he might beat you in the arrogant, pompous arse competition?"

Draco looked at her with contempt that turned into a downright leer. "Okay, Granger. You can obviously handle it, so," he ran his index finger down the part of her thigh exposed by her opened robes and the slit in her knee length skirt, "my desk is always there for you, too. And mine's closer."

Hermione shivered as his finger burned lightly down her leg. She quickly pulled her robes over her and looked away from him as she felt her cheeks fever.

Draco laughed a triumphantly victorious laugh and turned back to his own desk.

_Okay, so Draco won that round_, she thought, still completely shocked that he would even touch her, let alone touch her so sensually. _Whoa, that was weird_. She shook her head and wondered how in the world she would survive in a department overcrowded with two overly inflated egos. Just then a shiny green mug filled with a swirling dark brown liquid appeared beside the blue mug.

"Spiced chocolate," Draco said, as though the last few minutes had never happened. "It's much better than the coffee here, anyway."

Hermione lifted the green mug to her mouth and carefully sipped the warm drink. For once, she had to agree with him.

xxxxx

The grand hall on the entrance level of the Ministry was busier than Kings Cross during the evening rush. Witches and wizards of all shapes and sizes bustled along bumping into each other and practically knocking one another over in the process. No one seemed to mind the increasingly closer proximity, however, as every hushed or hurried conversation seemed to be about the heightened security level.

Hermione trudged downstream with a group of older witches heading towards the Atrium Café. She desperately wanted to skirt around the molasses slow gaggle of witches but knew she would undoubtedly run into another witch or wizard in the process, and she didn't particularly feel in the mood to ward off any ensuing hexes accidentally or purposefully thrown at her.

She waited with an outward patience that didn't match her internal anxiety as the seating witch led the older witches down a hallway into a large banquet room. When the young seating witch returned she turned a harried smile to Hermione and said, "Thank you for waiting. Table for one?"

Hermione immediately fell silently penitent for her lack of patience as she realized how busy the café must be with no one being allowed to leave the Ministry until the end of day. The young witch was flushed from running about seating people, small strands of hair falling out of her loose bun piled atop her head. Just as Hermione began to nod her head she saw the seating witch pull her posture more straightly up and flash a big smile over her shoulder. She wondered what had inspired the change in her until she heard a familiar drawl from behind her.

"Make that two."

She turned around to unsurprisingly see grey eyes dancing with flirtation looking past her to the now even more flushed seating witch.

The witch giggled unconsciously and said with an obvious invitation in her voice, "Of course, sir. Please follow me. It's a bit crowded in here, so stay close."

Hermione rolled her eyes at a smirking Draco and followed the sashaying witch through the café. When they reached a table near the back of the café the witch turned around and her smile faltered slightly at seeing Hermione directly behind her instead of Draco. She regained her infatuated semblance, however, as Draco lightly brushed past her to his seat, whispering, "Thank you," softly in her ear as they passed. The witch sighed dreamily and slowly sashayed back to the front of the café.

"What was that all about?" Hermione asked, a small frown tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Draco arched an eyebrow at her then smirked, "You've got to know how to handle people. You would have been waiting another fifteen minutes if I hadn't come along. Didn't you notice the two witches sitting in the waiting area? I'll bet this was meant to be their table."

"What?" Hermione said sounding shocked. "You mean we just took this table from someone else because of your shameless flirting?"

"Hey," he countered, "what's the point in flirting unless it's shameless? Besides, are you hungry or not?"

Hermione was actually terribly hungry. She hadn't felt much like eating breakfast, and she was now regretting it. But no matter how famished she felt, she would never admit to Draco that perhaps his arrogance had finally come in handy.

Nearly forty minutes later Hermione and Draco walked out of the Atrium Café. Despite her hunger, Hermione found that she had very little appetite, and proceeded to merely pick at her food. Both had been silent for most of their lunch hour. Hermione had stifled back the urge to make small talk with Draco, not entirely sure if forced pleasantries would be any better than impassioned bitterness.

When they reached their cubicles Hermione saw a violet parchment airplane sailing gently over her desk, the words "Ministry of Magic" inking the edges of the wings. She immediately touched her wand to the airplane and it unfolded itself. She lifted the parchment with her hands and eagerly read the hastily written script.

_Hermione, _

Yes, Harry and Ron have both been assigned out of country. I can't tell you where for security reasons, but I can tell you that they are together and with their veteran Auror trainers. They normally would have stayed in the UK since they are new trainees, but Headquarters decided that since they had more practical experience than many of the veterans they were needed elsewhere.

Don't worry, Hermione. The Department will keep close tabs on their movement, and so will I. I have been assigned to the Dover Post for on-the-job-training, but I told my Aunt I expected at least an owl a week letting me know how they are. I will pass on all the information I can to you.

I'm sorry I didn't get to say goodbye in person, but I'm sure I'll be back soon. With any luck the Ministry will handle this quickly.

Susan

Hermione absentmindedly folded up the parchment and placed it in her robe pocket. Harry and Ron were gone. And because of their blasted experience they were likely to be in the middle of harm's way. Hermione's heart began to race. A flash of heat shot through her veins while a cold sweat broke out across her skin. Her hands were clammy and left steamy streaks across the top of her desk. She felt the room sway slightly as she watched the cubicle wall in front of her recede, as though she watched through a retreating camera lens. A dull buzz rang in her ears and a faintly whispered "Hermione" echoed in her head as all the light in the room swirled maniacally into a vortex of raging blackness.

xxxxx

Hermione felt as though she were floating. Her head was airily empty and her body seemed to defy the restrictions of gravity's oppression. In the distance she could hear a dull murmur wafting on a nonexistent breeze. She tried to move her arm to brush away an annoying tickle across her forehead with the ease of swimming through wet concrete. As soon as she had succeeded in minutely moving her arm the blessed weightlessness and silence of her former reverie was ripped from her tranquil body and angrily replaced with a heavy ache and a dizzying swirling in her head. She reluctantly squinted her eyes open and was rewarded with a painfully bright light piercing down on her.

"Hermione?"

She looked up through still squinted eyes and saw two blurry forms, one stroking what Hermione could only imagine was a damp cloth over her forehead. As her eyes began to focus, the Monet-like brush strokes of the images before her melded together to become the kindly visage of an older witch and a worried wizard.

"Jocelyn?" Hermione asked. "Graham?" As she struggled to sit up the kind witch gently pushed her back onto the sofa she was lying on. Hermione easily gave up the resistance and allowed herself to sink back into the soft cushions.

"Just lay back and relax, dear," Jocelyn encouraged. "You gave us all quite a start. We've been quite worried about you."

"Are you okay, Hermione?" Graham asked cautiously.

"I think so." Hermione reached her hand to her forehead and fought off a wave of sickening nausea. "What happened?"

"Well, it appears that you blacked out for a time," Jocelyn said.

"I…I fainted?" Hermione's voice was filled with incredulity as she realized she had done something she had never done before.

"And not just that," Graham said. "When you collapsed you hit your head on the floor and gave yourself quite a concussion."

Hermione delicately lifted her fingers to the back of her head where she felt a dull ache, but no tell-tale lump.

As though sensing her confusion he added, "A medi-wizard was here earlier and got rid of the dragon egg you had forming on the back of your head where it hit the ground. He also said you need to drink this." Graham produced a small clear glass filled with a pearly pink liquid. "It will help your headache and nausea to subside."

This time when Hermione started to sit up Jocelyn let her. She took the glass from Graham and drained it. Almost immediately she felt a warmth tingle up her spine, and she was amazed as she felt her headache and accompanying nausea dissipate away. She handed the glass to a motherly looking Jocelyn and then looked up at Graham. "The last thing I remember is hearing a voice calling my name. Was that you?"

"No," Graham answered. "Jocelyn and I were in my office discussing the Finland assignment, and everyone else was out of the office, either at lunch or in another department. Well, all except for Draco."

"Draco?"

"Apparently he said one second you were reading an interdepartmental memo and the next you had turned as white as a sheet. I'm sure it was he who called your name."

"And then what happened?" she ventured.

"He brought you into the department lounge and got me and Jocelyn," Graham answered.

"But how did he manage to get a stretcher around all of the cubicles? It is a bit tight out there."

Jocelyn looked at Hermione with a gentle smile and patted her arm while saying, "Oh, he didn't magic you here, dear. He carried you."

Hermione's hand stopped midair towards her head. "Mal…Draco…carried me?" Somehow she just couldn't imagine the proud pureblood soiling his hands or his perfect robes by carrying her.

"Yes," Jocelyn said. "And he seemed rather worried, too."

"Humph." The disbelieving sound came out before Hermione could even think about it. She was mildly embarrassed as Graham gave her a fleetingly questioning look. No one at the office knew about their mutual enmity, and she decided that there was no sense in revealing it, either. She tried to cover up by pretending to cough, but Jocelyn wasn't fooled.

"Really, dear," Jocelyn said. "I have two sons a bit older than you. I know concern when I see it, even when they try to hide it." She smiled warmly at Hermione and then stood. "I think I'll go tell him that you're all right." She then gracefully exited the room.

Hermione mulled over all of the information she had just been given. She fainted. Draco called out to her. He carried her to the lounge. He was worried about her. It all sounded like an absurdist play, and she was the only one who didn't know her lines. She could almost feel the headache returning.

"Now, Hermione," Graham said in a fatherly tone, "I want you to take it easy and rest. Stay off your feet as much as you can. Most remedies work best when you move around and get the potion into your bloodstream, but this potion you just took works better the more still you are. The marvels of modern magical medicine." He shook his head in wonder. "Now, you may stay here in the lounge until end of day, or you may go home. Either way, I recommend that when you do leave here you go by portkey." He held up his hand at Hermione's attempt to interject and went on. "I know you're feeling fine now, but you've just suffered a nasty concussion. I would rather not risk the chance of you splinching yourself during Apparating. I saw a man once Apparate everything except his torso. It was quite gruesome. Took nearly a day to remedy." Graham shuddered. "And I'd be worried that you'd miss your grate while Flooing. But the Department of Magical Transportation can set you up with a disposable portkey designed for one time use. I'll go ahead and have one set up for you. So, would you like to stick around or go now?"

Hermione thought about going home to an empty house alone and decided, "I'll stay. Maybe I could read up on the Sweden report."

"Excellent idea." Graham's eyes sparkled and he beamed at Hermione's fortitude. "I'll have someone bring it in to you." That said he walked briskly from the lounge.

Hermione leaned back into the comfy couch and closed her eyes. She tried to forget the fact that Harry and Ron were gone, as well as the perplexity surrounding Malfoy's eerily odd lack of malicious intent. She was sure that if she had fainted in a room alone with Draco Malfoy last year he would have savored the opportunity to hex her into the next decade. But she didn't want to think about that now. She just wanted to think about and feel nothing.

Several minutes passed and Hermione's breathing became steady and even. Just as she was about to drift off she felt an earthquake rattle through her. She opened her eyes to see Draco kneeling in front of her shaking her by the shoulders, his eyes glinting a fiery grey.

"W-what is it?" Hermione startled awake, trying to regain her composure.

"Don't you know you're not supposed to fall asleep after a concussion? Honestly, Granger, sometimes I wonder how you ever became Head Girl." His voice was sharp and an angry irritation betrayed his usually calm exterior.

"Well, it's not like I meant to," she said, a small bite to her voice. "It's just terribly quiet and comfortable in here."

"Is that right?" He dropped a file report onto the coffee table and sank into the sofa right next to her. Hermione's eyes widened. He was sitting as close to her as he possibly could have without actually coming into physical contact with her. He turned to look at her, his eyes alight with something she couldn't quite identify and his typical smirk in place. "Comfortable now?" he mockingly asked, one eyebrow raised.

She bristled at his impertinence, but didn't respond. She grabbed the report from the coffee table and perturbedly opened it to the first page. She tried unsuccessfully to read the report, but found herself glaring at Malfoy through the corner of her eye. He was settled rather comfortably next to her, reading his two-inch thick parchment book on International Magical Law. He seemed rather unfazed by their nearness. So why was she feeling so uppity? She turned her attention back to the report and tried in vain to focus on the words in front of her.

After what seemed like an eternity of sitting next to Malfoy, Graham entered the lounge. "Ah, how are we doing in here?"

"Fine, thank you, "Hermione answered a little wearily.

"Good, good," he said. "Thank you for keeping our Hermione company, Draco. Now I have one other favour to ask of you."

_Another favour?_, Hermione thought. Of course Malfoy wouldn't come to check up on her of his own volition. He had to be compelled to do it. Not that she thought he might actually care, mind. But she couldn't help but be a little put out that keeping her company hadn't been his own idea.

"I have a portkey set up for Hermione to use to return home today," Graham went on. "I don't feel comfortable with her going alone. It's quite a disorienting feeling to portkey, and I would hate for her to lose her footing on arrival and hit her head again. Would you mind escorting her home tonight, Draco? You can then Apparate home from there."

"Oh, that's really not necessary, Graham. I'll be just fine. Besides, I'm sure Draco has much better things to do than chaperone me home." Hermione hoped that she sounded convincing instead of ungrateful.

"Nonsense," Graham said flippantly. "Draco?"

"Sure, Graham," Draco replied, turning his infuriatingly semi-permanent smirk to Hermione. Hermione sighed in defeat and looked away from Draco's amused face.

"Very good. Just go up to the Portkey Office and tell them I sent you. They'll get you all set up. Take care of yourself tonight, Hermione. I'll see you two tomorrow." Graham then spun on his heel and headed back to his office.

Hermione tried to convince Draco that he didn't need to take her home while they walked to the Portkey Office, but to no avail. His only response to her was, "Sure I do. I told Graham I would."

They entered the office, mentioned Graham, and were immediately led to a room at the back of the hallway. The room was empty except for a short pillar which stood in the middle. Across the top of the pillar was laid a slightly crushed aluminum can. The witch assisting them nodded to the can atop the pillar and said, "There is the portkey. It's disposable, so just throw it away when you've made it to your destination. Go ahead and take a hold of the portkey and I'll activate it."

Draco took hold of one end of the can and Hermione reluctantly took hold of the other end. She could have sworn that the witch winked and smiled wickedly at Draco, but just then the room swirled and blurred. She felt her navel being pulled through her back by an invisible string as she was tossed back and forth, once or twice slamming into Draco. Finally the swirling subsided and her feet came pounding onto the floor. She stumbled forward and just knew that she was destined to end up on the floor again. She flailed her arms out trying to regain balance but pitched forward to fall anyway. In the next split second she fell against something sturdy and flung her arms instinctively around it. She felt something close around her waist and stop her from falling.

"Hi."

She looked up and into the face of a grinningly amused Draco. Their arms were tangled around each other and she realized that he must have caught her. She stared in disbelief for a moment before finding her voice, but she could only utter one syllable.

"Oh."

"I guess Graham was right, wasn't he?" Draco held firmly onto Hermione, keeping her in an upright position.

Hermione was momentarily stunned. She had just fallen into the open arms of Draco Malfoy, quite literally. She looked into his eyes, searching for the malice, the ridicule, the pure hatred. She sought for the smirk, the sneer, the frown, for anything that would prove to her that this was the same boy who had plagued her and her friends for the past seven years. In the very instant that she searched for all of the evil she had so passionately despised, she found instead openness and vulnerability. She blinked her eyes as though seeing him for the first time. But, like a rarely mentioned uncle whose lengthy visit wears out his welcome, the moment passed and the old defenses returned.

"Really, Granger, if you wanted me that badly all you had to do was ask." He smirked mockingly at her. "I mean, women come up with all kinds of excuses to throw themselves at me, but this is truly original."

Hermione quickly gathered her wits about her and pulled herself to standing, pushing him rather abruptly away from her. "Oh, sod off, Malfoy," she spat.

"Hey, just allowing you the thrill of touching the dashing and charming perfection that is me."

"Why do you have to be so egotistical and conceited?" she asked, highly disappointed that he had once again released the prat within.

He just shrugged. "Second nature." He began walking around the living room. "So, these are the Ministry Scholar accommodations. Rather…cozy…aren't they?"

Hermione heaved a tired sigh and commented, "Malfoy, you are the only person I know who can make the word 'cozy' sound like a disease."

"It's a gift." He walked over to the stairs and casually glanced up toward the second floor. "Sleeping quarters?" he asked, indicating the upstairs.

"Bedrooms," Hermione corrected. "This isn't Malfoy Manor, you realize."

"Clearly," he said smugly as he began ascending the stairs.

Hermione rolled her eyes and followed behind him. "I suppose this means you'd like the grand tour."

"Oh, no," he responded, sounding slightly less pretentious than the Queen Mother. "'Grand tour' implies something greater than I suspect this dwelling holds."

After seeing the two bedrooms and bathrooms upstairs he led Hermione back down the stairs and into the kitchen. "What? No house elves?" he said scandalized.

"You're kidding me, right?"

He gave her a don't-be-daft look and said, "Granger, if you have to ask me that then you really are losing your Head Girl edge."

Draco sauntered back to the living room and sat on the sofa, leaning his back against the arm rest and swinging his legs across the remaining seat cushions. "So," he said, "you seem to be doing better despite the fact that your little boyfriends are off battling the forces of evil again."

Hermione looked at him with a mixture of contempt and wonder. "How did you know they were gone?" She sank into the armchair adjacent to the sofa.

"Please, Granger, don't insult my intelligence," he began bitterly. "Of course 'Saint Potter' the hero and his faithful sidekick have been called on to right all the world's wrongs again. I'm not an imbecile. Besides, that little show of yours in the office today couldn't have been brought on by anything else but the fact that your pathetic friends have gone off into the face of death."

"Shut it, Malfoy," she said softly but dangerously, her eyes flashing with anger.

"I'll say what I like, Granger." Draco's face was unreadable, but his words sunk in like venom. "You know it's true, and you can't stand it."

"What's true, Malfoy, is that you know Harry and Ron are braver and more capable of fighting evil than you are, and you can't stand it." Her words shot at him more quickly and with more force than a gun shot at point blank. "If you were sent into evil's fray you wouldn't be strong enough to combat it. You'd end up groveling for the chance to be numbered among the minions."

Draco shot up from the sofa and towered over her, his hands clenching into fists. "That's not true." His voice was low but seething with unmasked fury.

Hermione knew she had struck a cord in him. She knew she should stop, but her pent up stress urged her on. "It is true. Face it, Malfoy. You have too much of your father in you to resist."

In a fraction of a second he had sprung towards Hermione. His hands caught the arms of the armchair and he leaned over her, his face menacing and close enough for her to see chips of pale blue ice flecking the steely grey of his enraged eyes. "I may have some of my father in me, but I have a say in what I become. You, on the other hand, have no choice but to be a mudblood."

Hermione flinched imperceptibly, but continued to hold his cuttingly penetrating stare. His face was uncomfortably close to hers, his warm breath searing her lips with his heat. Once again his eyes flickered something she couldn't quite identify, but in an instant it was gone and the malice returned.

"Well," he whispered, his face still unnervingly close, "I did what I told Graham I would do." He moved away from her with excruciating leisure, as though punctuating the fact that he had the upper hand. He stood to his full height, continuing to stare her down. Without warning a loud pop echoed across the silent living room, and he was gone.

She let out a heavy breath and realized she was shaking. What had she just done? Why had she just verbally attacked Malfoy like that? She buried her face into her hands. She hated herself when she acted like that. And remembering that she had taunted him with the memory of his father made her even more disgusted with herself. What was Malfoy doing to her? And why was she giving into the reprehensible side of herself she never realized existed?

But more than all of these plaguing questions she was haunted by just one thing. Just before he Apparated he had inadvertently dropped the mask and looked at her with a very disturbing expression. She tried to push the memory of it away, telling herself it was just a trick of her eyes, but she couldn't reconcile it away. He had unmasked the façade and what she had seen made her heart constrict. She hit her forehead with the heel of her hand and tried to visualize something, anything other than his face. How could she be so hateful and cruel? She  
tried to envision him at his worst, filled with rage and malice, hoping in some small way to rationalize her horrid behaviour, but it was no use. For the only thing Hermione could see, the one image that had burned itself onto the canvas of her mind, was a desperate look of sadness and inexpressible loneliness.


	5. Chapter 5

The next two days were inexplicably depressing and lonely for Hermione. She busied herself with reading department briefs and reports and studying International Magical Law. Although everyone else in the office treated her as normally as they had on her first day, Malfoy refused to look at her or to even acknowledge her existence. She knew she deserved it, but it only too clearly punctuated the fact that she had been unforgivably horrible to him. He may have been horrible to her in the past, and he definitely had been, but she was not vengeful nor was she  
used to being so plagued by guilt over her inconsiderate actions.

She had finally talked herself into approaching him to apologize when Roland intercepted her. He had put his hand on her arm and reiterated his invitation of assistance to her, flashing his signature smile. She politely thanked him and managed to escape, but Malfoy had disappeared.

He hadn't spent much time at his desk, so Hermione decided to make a sweep of the office to see if she could find him. She searched all of the cubicles, under the guise that she had misplaced a file. Then she checked the conference room and the lounge, but turned up no clues as to Malfoy's whereabouts. She even poked her head into Graham's office to see if he was there, but only ended up thanking Graham again for setting up the portkey when she saw that Malfoy wasn't there either.

_Where in the world is he hiding?_, she thought. After all, the department wasn't that large, and he couldn't go visiting other departments all day. The only place she hadn't yet checked was the men's lavatory, and she wasn't about to make a scene by going in there to look.

After deciding to just go back to her desk and hope he showed up she passed by a door just down from the lounge at the end of the hall. She had never really noticed it being there before. She grabbed hold of the door knob and quietly turned it, gently pushing the door open as she did so. The room was small and had metal shelving units lining the walls from floor to ceiling. The shelves were stocked with all sorts of office supplies. A single light shone from the middle of the ceiling, casting long dim shadows across the room. Hermione was just about to turn and leave when she saw something white blond out of the corner of her eye. At the back of the room in the small open space between two shelves sat Malfoy on a foot stool reading a report in the insubstantial lighting. He looked out of place in the room, his perfectly fashioned robes and his intrinsic good looks contrasting harshly against the pallor and disarray of the supply room.

"Reading in this light is bad for your eyes, you know."

Malfoy glanced up from his report and looked unsurprised to see Hermione standing by the door. He looked back to his report and continued reading.

Hermione resisted the urge to cross her arms over her chest and sink her weight into one hip as she tended to do when she disagreed with something. Instead she clasped both hands in front of her and braced herself for whatever may come. "Malfoy…" she began, waiting for some response, verbal or nonverbal, but nothing came. He continued to stare down at his report. Hermione shifted uncomfortably but was not to be put off. "Draco," she amended, "I have something to say to you." He still focused annoyingly on the parchment report in front of him. She began to feel mildly perturbed as he continued to blatantly ignore her, but she steeled her nerves against his insolence and trudged on.

"I want to apologize for what I said to you the other night. I behaved abhorredly and had absolutely no right or basis for saying what I said. I should never have insulted you or your family the way that I did, and I want you to know that I am deeply sorry." She paused, waiting for him to respond, but he didn't. He remained as still as the fountain statues in the grand hall. "Draco?" she asked in a soft voice.

He remained motionless, his eyes fixed on the report in his hands. Just when Hermione thought she would go mad from his silence he said, "Are you finished?"

She looked at him carefully and replied, "No. To prove my contrition and to extend my good will toward you I would like to make dinner for you this evening."

For the first time since he originally acknowledged her he looked up from his report to stare at her. "You what?"

Hermione gulped back her sudden discomfort and repeated, "I would like to make dinner for you."

He considered her for a moment, his eyes raking over her face as though searching for a hidden punch line. After a long pause he said, "I don't need your good will."

"Draco," she said, unconsciously beginning to wring her hands, "if we are going to be working together we need to learn how to get along with each other. If we can't even have dinner together how are we supposed to work together and expect to accomplish anything?" She swallowed her rising trepidation and quickly added, "I think it would help if we got to know each other better."

For a minute neither of them said anything. They just stared at each other, almost daring each other to speak. Hermione looked deeply into his eyes searching for a sign of something, but his eyes revealed no secrets.

Finally, through the air bristling with unspoken tension, Draco broke the silence. "I don't want to get to know you better," he said without affectation.

Hermione waited for an explanation that didn't come. She dropped her eyes to the floor and fought the feeling of stinging tears mixed with insuppressible anger welling up inside of her. Without a second glance Hermione turned to the door and walked out. She closed the door and leaned her back against the wall next to it. She took a few deep breaths to calm herself. She knew that she had angered and hurt him terribly that one unfortunate evening, but she had still hoped that he would eventually forgive her, or at least return her despicable behavior in like form. She wasn't prepared, however, for his total lack of affectation towards her. Now she felt even worse than ever.

Once back at her desk she spent the rest of the afternoon half-heartedly browsing the Sweden report. Just as she was clearing her desk and readying herself to leave for the day she felt a presence behind her and heard a hushed voice.

"Malfoy Manor. Seven o'clock."

She turned slowly to see Draco behind her looking at the cubicle wall over her right shoulder. "What?" she asked softly, wondering if she had heard him correctly.

"Do you want to have dinner or not?" His eyes casually brushed over her and then back to the intriguing spot above her shoulder.

"Yes," she answered thoughtfully, "but I want to make dinner for you at my house."

"Nonsense. I don't care to spend the evening in those cramped quarters. Besides, making dinner is for the house elves to do."

"Please, Draco, I want to do this," she told him. "Can't you give the house elves the night off or something and I can at least make dinner?"

He turned his eyes to hers and said, "They'll think I'm punishing them. But if that's what you want…"

"Just tell them they'll have a guest chef tonight." She played absentmindedly with the hem of her robes.

Draco nodded curtly. "Meet me outside of the Leaky Cauldron at half past six. Only Malfoys can Apparate onto the grounds, so I'll have to Apparate with you."

Hermione just stared at him as he grabbed a report from his desk and walked towards the lift. Draco Malfoy was such a mystery, and Hermione was sure she would never understand him. But at least he was talking to her again.

She snatched the Sweden report and a few other loose pieces of parchment from her desk. She had a lot to do before half past six.

Hermione walked briskly through Diagon Alley carrying a natural wood woven basket laden down with all of the ingredients for dinner. She had Apparated to Diagon Alley a little early to pick up the remaining ingredients for dessert from a little market there. The market had been more crowded than she had expected it to be, and now she found she had only minutes before she was to meet Draco outside of the Leaky Cauldron.

She carefully darted around meandering groups of witches and wizards who were blissfully strolling through their seemingly unencumbered lives, ignorant to the dreadful uncertainty hanging over the wizarding world. Hermione looked envyingly at a young girl, undoubtedly a Hogwarts student, glancing shyly over the rim of her milkshake at her similarly shy boyfriend in the outside seating of Florean Fortesque's. She wished that she was as carefree as that girl and sitting happily with Harry and Ron, teasing them about something trivial and insignificant rather than worrying about where they were and if they were safe or not. She sighed and shrugged off an uncomfortable shudder, trying to push the worry from her mind.

As she approached the back entrance of the Leaky Cauldron she stopped abruptly, temporarily mesmerized by the sight before her. Standing apart from the brick of the building was a solitary figure, strong and well-built. The tall wizard wore a deep green button down shirt tucked into simple but fitted black trousers. His pure black robe billowed out dramatically in the breeze, framing his strong figure in a sea of swirling darkness. His hair glinted in the waning sun, a shimmer of gold accenting his light blond locks lifting slightly in the tail wind of the midsummer's air. He turned his head forward and looked straight at Hermione, his eyes boring directly into her without a glimmer of emotion. She felt her cheeks redden, and she thanked the heavens that she was still far enough away for him not to notice. For all his arrogance and conceited egotism, Draco Malfoy was right about one thing—he was hopelessly dashing.

She moved forward and stood next to him, unnerved by his feverishly good looks. She looked up at him and waited for him to speak.

He glanced at the nearly overflowing basket and easily slid it off her arm and into his hand. "You're late," he coolly reprimanded.

"I'm sorry," she replied.

"Let's go." He slipped his free hand into Hermione's and clasped it gently. His hand was comfortably warm in hers, not at all cold like the exterior he was so wont to front. He squeezed her hand with slightly more pressure and in an instant the surrounding cobblestone of Diagon Alley was replaced by the cool marbled floor of a grandiose entryway.

Hermione gasped audibly as she stared up at a tall rounded domed ceiling, gold and silver stars and galaxies swirling against a glowing midnight blue backdrop. Her eyes moved downward to the rotunda entryway and she openly gaped at intricately woven tapestries hung on the alabaster walls.

"Welcome to Malfoy Manor." Draco deftly released her hand and walked down the long hall filled with more tapestries. Hermione desperately wanted to inspect everything around her but didn't want to lose track of Draco, so she quickened her pace.

Draco led her up a few steps and turned down the right corridor. The short corridor led out to a large room furnished with two incredibly comfortable looking sofas and two matching armchairs. The floor was covered with a dark green rug flecked with small wine colored diamonds. Dark wood sofa tables stood behind each sofa, various dark wizard artifacts covering them. On the wall opposite the corridor stood a cavernous fireplace large enough to house a carriage. A roaring fire blazed within, orange and red flames licking the black and grey stone walls. The fire cast a warm glow over the room and Hermione felt conflictedly safe yet insignificant amidst the incredible surroundings.

"Wait here," Draco said, and he disappeared through a set of doors leading from the left of this amazing room. Hermione was in awe. So far, not even Blenheim Palace could hold a candle to Malfoy Manor.

Hermione was so caught up in her musings that she didn't even notice a slight shuffling of feet and a small creature approach her until a soft squeak turned her attention from the large painting over the fireplace to the floor in front of her.

"Ah, miss," the creature squeaked, "Welcome to Malfoy Manor." The smiling creature, adorned in what appeared to be an oversized wash rag cinched in at the waist by a brown cord tied into a bow, lowered herself into a deep curtsey. "I is Lubby. Master told Lubby you would be joining him this evening for dinner."

"Yes," Hermione said, appalled at Lubby's manner of dress. "I am going to make dinner for the two of us."

"Oh, miss," Lubby responded disappointedly, "Lubby and the other house elves make dinner here, not young miss."

"Didn't Draco tell you, Lubby?" Hermione explained. "I insist."

Lubby gave Hermione a disapproving look and said, "Young master told Lubby, but Lubby thinks he is mistaken. Lubby has done nothing wrong. Lubby needs no punishment like not preparing dinner. It is what Lubby does best."

Hermione knelt down to Lubby's level and said in a placating voice, "We don't wish to punish you, Lubby. I just want to make dinner for Draco myself. If you don't mind, I could probably use your assistance."

Lubby's pointy ears perked up at Hermione's words and she excitedly squeaked, "Miss does not wish to banish Lubby from the kitchen. Lubby will do whatever young miss asks. Come, and Lubby will lead you to the kitchen and dining hall." Lubby began to bound towards the set of doors Draco was still standing near. He watched Hermione walk happily towards him and he smirked slightly as she approached.

"I'll be in the library," he said and headed back down the corridor. Hermione watched him disappear behind a stone wall before following Lubby through the doors, relieved to have finally seen an emotion from him.

When Hermione reached the kitchen she was amazed. It was roughly the size of the entire first floor of her house on Starlight Lane. _No wonder Draco wasn't impressed with my house_, she thought. Four separate stoves with six burners each stood along one wall, double ovens in between each stove. Two double sinks stood along the opposite wall flanked by deep oak cupboards. The remaining wall space was lined with preparation tables. Four large islands stood in the middle of the kitchen, and Hermione saw her basket lying atop one of them.

"Where shall we start, miss?" Lubby asked, six additional house elves nodding their heads in anticipation.

"Well," Hermione began, "let's begin with the main course." Hermione unpacked her basket and told the house elves what her dinner plan was. Lubby barked out orders to the other house elves who seemed to be pleased about doing something special for their young master. They mixed and blended and seasoned and chopped, all quiet unless addressed directly by Hermione. She felt happy to be in the company of others, even if it was in the company of these poor enslaved house elves amidst the drudgery of their impoverished lifestyle. She hated to admit it, but they did seem to enjoy the work of helping her.

"So, tell me, Lubby," Hermione said while stirring a pan of bubbling red sauce, "how do you like your master? And please be honest with me."

Lubby looked at Hermione questioningly before replying. "Lubby would do anything for young master. Young master is good and kind to us."

"He's kind?" Hermione asked.

"Oh, yes, miss," Lubby answered. "Young master speaks softly and does not punish us for our mistakes. And young master forbids us from punishing ourselves. We are very loyal to him." Lubby hiccoughed and lowered her voice, saying, "But Lubby thinks young master is lonely. Since our old master left we see no one but young master. He is sad. But Lubby is glad to see young miss with young master."

Hermione felt a warm sensation rush to her cheeks at Lubby's indirect insinuation. "Well," Hermione said, clearing her throat awkwardly, "I think it's almost done."

As Hermione added the finishing touches to the steaming food placed atop the islands Lubby said, "When master and miss are finished with one course, tap the table with your wand and the next course will appear. Trinker is finding young master. Lubby will show you to the dining hall."

Keeping with the mood of her visit so far, Hermione was astounded when she entered the dining hall. It was at least six times the size of the kitchen and looked as though it could accommodate all of the Ministry employees at once and still have room to spare. But instead of having impossibly long tables stretching across it, one small table sat in the center of the room, a dozen or more lit candles floating magically in the air above. A deep burgundy brocade cloth covered the table, and on it sat immaculate place settings for two. A single red rose lay across each plate. Hermione felt as though she had walked into a fairy tale, and she made no effort to hide her amazement as the handsome prince walked gracefully towards her.

"Wow." Draco seemed as impressed as she did. He looked at her and repeated his compliment. "Wow."

"Trinker set the table," she admitted, hoping he didn't think that she had initiated such a romantic setting.

"Shall we?" Draco walked behind her chair and pulled it out for her. She looked at him hesitantly and then smiled. She never imagined he would be so gentlemanly towards her. He gently scooted the chair back in as she sat. He then took his place opposite her.

Hermione and Draco enjoyed their dinner in relative silence, each too worried about ruining the pleasant ambiance by speaking. Hermione stole furtive glances at Draco, impressed by his etiquette and elegant manners. He occasionally looked up at her as well, moments of unrecognizable emotion fleeting across his eyes. Aside from the occasional "wow" or "oh my, this is good," they remained quiet, enjoying the silent companionship.

For the final course Hermione tapped her wand to the table and dessert appeared on delicate china plates, bottles of butterbeer and mugs next to the plates. She smiled as Draco's face lit up with excitement. "Strawberry canapés," he said in awe.

When the meal was finally over Draco helped Hermione from the table and walked her to the sitting room with the huge fireplace. They both sat on a sofa and continued on in silence. Hermione looked at Draco and found him staring at her. She smiled at him and his face grew perplexed. Draco then stood and walked to the fireplace. He placed his hands on the mantle and leaned against it, his head dropping between his shoulders to his chest.

"Draco?" Hermione asked, the concern clear in her voice.

He shook his head and questioned, "Why?"

"Why what?" she enquired back.

"Why do this? I know you hate me. Why do all of this for me?" His voice was even, but Hermione thought she noticed a slight tremble to it.

Hermione looked down at her hands and then back to him. "I don't hate you."

Draco turned around to face her, the nearly imperceptible shadow of a smile on his face. "You don't?"

"No, I don't," she said, honesty sweeping across her gentle features. How strange it felt to say that to him. Throughout all of their years at Hogwarts she had more than hated him. She had despised and loathed him to no end. He had been hurtful and evil, and she had wanted nothing more than for him to go away and never return. But looking at him now, the slight glimmer of hope on his face and the distant look of need in his eyes, the last thing she felt toward him was hate.

"So, you don't want anything from me?"

Hermione gave him a puzzled look. "Why would I?"

"Never mind," he quickly replied. He returned to the sofa and sat next to her. Silence again pervaded the air, only the crackling of the fire sounding through the magnificent sitting room. Finally after a long pause his composed voice permeated the stillness. "Dinner was…amazing," he admitted. "No one has ever done that for me before. Not even my mother…" He broke off quietly and sat staring into the fire.

Hermione suddenly felt a pang of empathy for this boy beside her. The boy who had tormented her. The boy who had ridiculed her. The boy who was now painfully alone. She wanted to reach out to him and take his hand, to hug him and tell him it was okay, but she couldn't. She couldn't bear it if he turned on her and rejected her. Instead she said, "Thank you for letting me do this."

His head quickly turned to her and he looked at her with a flash of appreciation. He smiled cautiously and returned to staring at the fire.

The remainder of the evening was spent quietly with Hermione wandering around the room, studying the portraits on the walls and admiring the masterfully crafted metal curiosities lining the sofa tables, while Draco surreptitiously watched. They spoke very little to each other. Hermione felt that the silence was not empty, however, but, rather, filled with a sort of understanding that they were beginning to feel towards each other.

At the end of their evening the house elves brought Hermione her basket and bid her farewell. Draco led her back down the front hall to the entry rotunda, allowing her to leisurely inspect everything along the way. Once back under the circular celestial ceiling of the entry Draco again slipped his hand into hers and held it firmly as they Apparated from the Manor to her home on Starlight Lane.

"Thank you, again," she said, continuing to hold his hand for a moment longer.

He simply bowed forward to her, his eyes alight with a knowing amusement. He then stood upright, dropped her hand, and Apparated with a pop.

She lowered herself onto the sofa and stared at the wall. She was surprised to admit it, but she had just spent a most wonderful evening with Draco at Malfoy Manor. For a brief evening he had dropped his cold the-world-be-hanged attitude and had allowed feelings from gratitude to vulnerability to manifest themselves in him. Hermione was confused. What kind of enigma was Draco Malfoy? And what exactly made him that way? And could she help him see past the anger and frustration and help him to become the rather considerate man she had spent the evening with?

She closed her eyes and lay back against the sofa cushions, an irrepressible smile forcing its way onto her lips. No wonder nearly every girl in school had harbored a secret crush on him. Draco Malfoy was incredibly dashing and, surprisingly enough to Hermione, mind-blowingly attractive.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Thank you to all who have reviewed. I appreciate your comments, and hope you will continue to enjoy this story.

XOXOXOXOXOXO

"Finland is a country alive with a rich history, both Magical and Muggle. Helsinki, the capitol, is where Finland's Ministry is located and, hence, you will be spending most of your time there."

Hermione sat perched on the edge of her seat, listening avidly to every word Johnson Masters, the Auror in charge of foreign briefings, delivered. She was incredibly excited for her assignment to Finland, and Draco hid an amused grin behind his hand as he watched her schoolgirl zeal overtake her calm grown-up reserve.

"The Ministry is located on the island fortress of Suomenlinna, just off the coast of Helsinki. It was built by Muggles in the 18th Century, but quickly came to the notice of wizards looking for their own stronghold. A deal was struck by a small group from both the Wizard and Muggle worlds, and Suomenlinna has been shared by both ever since. The Ministry has placed numerous secrecy charms on the fortress since, in today's Muggle world, it is quite a tourist attraction. Apparation is not allowed, so you will need to travel there by Muggle ferry." Johnson looked up to see a questioning Draco and added, "The Muggles used it in their First World War, and they were worried about wizards from enemy countries Apparating into their midst at will, so anti-Apparating charms were put up. Besides, it would be most unfortunate to have a witch or wizard Apparate onto an unsuspecting Muggle tourist."

At the conclusion of Johnson's lecture on Finland, Hermione walked slowly, but automatically, back to the lift and her own department, relishing all of the new information attaching itself to the endless files of her memory. She was just visualizing grand battlements and impenetrable walls when a faint chuckling invaded the back of her mind. The chuckle grew in volume as she turned to see Draco half smirking, half smiling at her.

"Christmas come early this year?" he asked, his eyes dancing with mirth.

"What?" she asked, feeling her cheeks warm by a degree or two.

"I've been trying to get your attention since you got onto the lift, but I imagine your mind has been out of the country." He strode ahead of her and rounded the corner to their cubicles, lounging into his chair before she even got to their aisle.

"What did you want?" She sat in her own chair and considered him for a moment.

He propped his elbow on the arm of his chair and rested his head against his hand as he said, "I just wondered what you thought of our upcoming assignment, but the look on your face told me everything I wanted to know."

"Which is…?" Hermione prompted.

Draco looked lazily at her and drawled, "That you are overly excited to go and insanely anxious to spend the next two weeks with me." He gave her a slow smirk and a stare as penetrating as Mad Eye Moody's magical eye that made her feel like she was blushing down to the roots of her hair.

"You wish," she said with as much composure as she could muster through her complexion's lobster impression.

He raised an eyebrow at her, his annoyingly roguish smirk remaining firmly in place. "Is that so? Well, I guess we'll see, won't we?"

Hermione huffed in exasperation at his unceasing arrogance and said rather quickly, "Oh, don't get so cocky, Malfoy."

A highly entertained smile threatened to break across his face as he leaned slightly towards her and said, "Malfoys don't 'get cocky,' Granger. We are inherently self confident."

Despite Hermione's weariness from his overly inflated image of himself, she had to forcibly keep herself from smiling at his innate ability to consistently carry his arrogance to new levels.

"Well," he said glancing at the clock on the wall, "It's lunch time."

Without speaking, or even taking much notice of each other, Hermione and Draco both stood, straightened a few things on their desks, and made their way to the lift and down to the main level. This particular ritual had been in place since their surprisingly romantic dinner at Malfoy Manor. Although no invitation had been extended by either party, they somehow managed to have lunch together every day since then. Hermione couldn't determine whether it was by accident or by design, but she found that she rather enjoyed having company at lunch, even if it was Malfoy, so she didn't analyze it too much.

As they approached the Atrium Café the seating witch stared dreamily at Draco, as was her usual custom. "Two?" she asked purely out of habit.

"Make that four."

A rather confident voice spoke from behind them and Hermione turned to see Roland and Anna striding toward them. A twinge of misgiving prickled in Hermione's chest, almost a reverse butterfly effect, when she saw Roland approach her purposefully, his eyes never leaving her. She shifted uncomfortably and looked at Draco. He displayed a cool, unaffected exterior, but his eyes flashed momentary annoyance at Roland before he turned an obligatory smile to Anna.

"How nice of you to join us," Draco said with perfect Malfoy charm.

Hermione was still just getting to know the real Draco, but she could tell that beneath his pleasant manners he was perturbed by the intrusion. She wondered fleetingly if he was more agitated because it was Roland or because he had wanted to be alone with her. She barely got out the second part of her thought when Draco gently, but possessively, took her by the elbow and steered her away from Roland and toward the table the seating witch led them to.

The young witch led them to a booth near a window enchanted to show a beautiful lake backed by a magnificently blue sky. Draco let go of Hermione as she slid into the booth, followed by him. Unsurprisingly, Roland took the place directly across from Hermione, leaving Anna the seat opposite Draco.

"So," Roland began, "You begin your assignment in a few days." He fixed Hermione with a smile that told her most women melted and fell, figuratively, or maybe literally, into his bed upon seeing it. She smiled back and hoped he couldn't see her apprehension at his boldness.

"Yes," Draco said, obviously sensing Roland's mental undressing of Hermione and added meaningfully, "Hermione and I leave Monday for two weeks."

"Ah, first assignments." Roland turned his eyes from Hermione to stare down Draco. "First assignments can be very stressful. Let's hope you two don't kill each other before it's over." He then smirked intimidatingly. Roland was smooth, Hermione noted, but as she looked at Draco's perfect manners and his physicality that gave away nothing she realized how much more poised and polished Draco was. She stifled a giggle as she watched the measuring stick of masculinity float invisibly between the two obviously competing men.

"So, Draco, I understand you are quite the master of fencing," Anna interrupted the testosterone laden air, clearly stroking Draco's ego.

Draco turned his most engaging smile to Anna and looked rakishly at her. "Indeed? Very few people know that about me."

From the look on Anna's face Hermione imagined Draco had his own fall-into-my-bed smile. Hermione was glad he had never used that smile on her. The last thing she wanted was to fall surrenderingly into Draco Malfoy's bed. Wasn't it? Hermione shook her head to clear that disturbing thought from her mind.

After an intolerable 45 minutes of Anna's obvious flirting and Draco's and Roland's one-upmanship of each other, Hermione was relieved to get back up to her department. She immediately buried herself in Finnish Magical Government, hoping to brush up on her knowledge before Monday, but already having read this particular book from cover to cover twice, she decided to get a glass of water from the lounge.

As she began sipping her water she heard a calm feminine voice beside her. "Draco certainly is a charmer, isn't he?"

Hermione turned to see Anna mixing a red colored powder into her own glass of water. _Wizard Aid_, read the small packet containing the powder.

"Um, yes," Hermione agreed. She rarely spoke to Anna. Perhaps it was because Anna was threateningly beautiful with her dark blond spiral curls and deep blue eyes. Perhaps it was because she was unapproachably self assured. Either way, Hermione seldom felt compelled to approach her.

"You seem to be rather close with him," Anna observed, taking a delicate sip of her drink. "Dinner engagements. Lunch appointments."

Hermione paused with her glass midway to her mouth. She hadn't realized that anyone took notice of her dealings with Draco. She also wasn't quite sure where Anna was heading with her observations.

Anna continued to enjoy her Wizard Aid before speaking again. "So, are you two dating exclusively?"

"W-what?" Hermione stuttered, perceptibly shocked at Anna's question. Anna just looked at her, seemingly pleased at unnerving her. "We're not dating. Where ever did you get that idea from?"

Anna gave her a disbelieving look. "So," she asked pointedly, "you're not sleeping with him?"

Hermione nearly spit out the water she had just taken a drink of, but instead managed to choke on it. She put her hand to her chest as she coughed, managing to sputter out an emphatic "No!" She and Malfoy…sleeping together? The thought nearly unhinged her.

Anna sipped more of her drink, ignoring the fact that Hermione was turning a brilliant crimson red, partly from choking, but mostly from mortification. "Then you won't mind if I do."

Hermione stood motionless, openly gaping at an apparently pleased Anna. She watched in utter incredulity as Anna sidled triumphantly from the lounge.

_Did that really just happen?_, Hermione thought. Did Anna really think she, Hermione, was sleeping with Draco? Her disbelief quickly turned to vexation, however, as she realized that Anna meant to seduce Draco. _Why, that scheming, conniving, little bint!_ What was she playing at? _I may have no claim on Draco_, she thought, _but I will not lie down and let that little wench use him as another notch on her proverbial bed post_.

Hermione stormed from the lounge and marched straight toward Draco's cubicle. She stopped abruptly, however, as Anna came from around the corner leading to Draco's desk. She swayed her hips as she walked and gave Hermione a poisoned smile as she passed.

Hermione bristled, then moved purposefully to Draco's side. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked accusingly down at him. "What was that?" she asked with an edge to her voice.

"What was what?" Draco returned, looking at a file on his desk and completely missing Hermione's spot on impression of jealousy.

"Anna," Hermione spat through gritted teeth.

Draco turned to look at her and a teasing smirk grew across his face. "She asked me to dinner," he said calmly. Then he raised an eyebrow and added, "Does that bother you?"

Hermione dropped her jealous girlfriend stance, realizing she had held onto it for a bit too long, and said hastily, "Of course not. But you do realize she's trouble, don't you?"

"I like trouble," he said simply, and noticed Hermione slightly bristle again. "But I do realize she's after my money."

"I think she's after more of you than just your money," she said under her breath as she sank heavily into her chair.

"Really?" he said. "Thanks. I'll keep that in mind."

She shot him a glare that would have made even Roland shrink beneath it, but Draco just shook it off.

"That's interesting," he mused, leaning forward to Hermione with his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped loosely together. "It does bother you, doesn't it? Funny, but I never realized you and I were an item."

"An item? An item?" Her face was reddening in color again, but from anger rather than embarrassment. "In your dreams, Malfoy. I was just concerned about you getting involved with that manipulative wench, but if you want trouble, by all means, have it your way." Had they not been in an office filled with co-workers she probably would have shouted her tirade at him, but instead she just hissed her rantings.

Draco looked bemusedly at her, but she refused to look back. In fact, she didn't look at or speak to him for the rest of the day.

XOXOXOXOXOXO

On the morning of the first day of her Ministry assignment, Hermione awoke energized and anxious for a new adventure. She had spent the evening before packing for her two week business trip, making sure not to miss anything from the suggested list Jocelyn had given  
her.

She looked at herself in the mirror, carefully inspecting her travel outfit. She opted for a simple yet sophisticated three-quarter sleeved white Lycra stretch top that plunged in a rather vixenish V. She knew it was a bit of a risk for her, but she had bought it on impulse one day and found that she loved how it felt on. She smoothed the front of her black knee-length skirt and made sure her black leather boots that reached just below her knees were properly zipped. This morning she had opted to style her hair down, soft spirals framing her face. With one last inspection she grabbed her travel trunk and Disapparated from her house to the Ministry.

As she wheeled her trunk out of the lift onto level five Roland was immediately at her side. "Here, Hermione, let me get that for you." He gallantly took the trunk's handle for her and wheeled it towards the pile of her fellow travel companions' trunks. "You look absolutely beautiful this morning," he complimented, looking her appreciatively up and down.

"Thank you, Roland," she said, flashing him a brilliant smile.

Roland placed her trunk with the others and gave her a penetrating look. "I'd love to hear all about your trip when you return. Maybe you could tell me about it over dinner some time."

Hermione grinned slyly and responded teasingly, "Maybe." She didn't know why she was being so flirtatious with Roland. It was rather unlike her. But she figured that Malfoy didn't have a corner on the market, so why shouldn't she?

She walked confidently down the corridor and turned in at the aisle to her cubicle. Her confidence wavered slightly as she saw Anna sitting cross-legged atop Malfoy's desk, seductively running her hand up and down his arm. Determined to not let anything spoil her excited mood, not even Malfoy and his little harlot, she ignored the public display and began organizing the files left on her desk over the weekend. Had she turned to look at Malfoy, however, she would have seen him stare intently at her, his gaze examining her from head to toe. She would have also seen Anna glare menacingly at her before leaving Draco with a possessive pinch on the posterior.

Before she could engage in any sort of argument with the annoyingly well dressed blond next to her, she walked away from the aisle and down the corridor towards the supply room. As she entered the dimly lit room she scanned the shelves searching for quills, ink, and parchment. Finding what she came for, she grabbed the supplies and was just about to leave when she turned and ran straight into something firm. Not surprisingly, she looked up into grey eyes.

Draco's eyes held hers for a moment and he lifted his hand to her arm. His hand was incredibly warm and her skin tingled where his warmth penetrated her thin blouse. He wore a long sleeved silver-grey knit shirt, with two buttons undone at the top, tucked into well-tailored black pants. The colour of the shirt accented his eyes and turned them into warm swirling pools of quicksilver. A sharp thump beat against her ribcage and she realized her heart was jumping wildly in her chest. She backed away from him, forcing his hand to cease its contact with her.

"Excuse me," he said, allowing her to pass by him.

As she walked past him her shoulder brushed across his chest, again sending a warm tingle through the point of contact. She quickened her pace and exited the room, rushing down the corridor to the women's lavatory.

Once safely inside, she rested her palms on the cool marbled sink and looked at her pink cheeks in the mirror. _Pull yourself together_, she thought. _You are just very anxious about this assignment. This has nothing to do with being touched by Malfoy. You would have felt the same thing if you had brushed against a goblin instead._ Although she knew she would have felt nothing of the sort if it had been a goblin instead of Malfoy, she was more than happy to believe that the strange twitterpation she had just experienced was undoubtedly brought on by a mixture of anxiety and nerves. When she was sufficiently composed she left the lavatory and saw her travel  
companions heading towards the conference room.

"Ah, good, you're all here," Graham noted as Hermione closed the conference room door behind her. "I hope you are all ready for this assignment." Graham handed a piece of parchment to each of the four in front of him and explained, "Here is your itinerary. You will meet with Minister Juvonen for lunch at noon, Helsinki time. You will not go to the Finish Ministry today, but he would like a chance to meet you before tomorrow. Then you will check into your hotel. You will have the remainder of the day to prepare for your first Ministry meeting tomorrow or take in a few of the local sights. Jordan is heading up this assignment, so any deviation from your agenda must be approved by him." He paused and smiled at his four employees. "You will all be fine ambassadors for Britain. Good luck. I expect a full report from you on the first Monday after your return." Graham then opened the door and headed for his office.

"Well," Jordan said, trying his best to sound authoritative, "our portkey is scheduled for fifteen minutes from now. Let's get our trunks and go to the Portkey Office."

Hermione, Draco, and Jocelyn, led by Jordan, traipsed down the corridor to the foyer. After depositing her quills, ink, and parchment into her trunk, Hermione wheeled her trunk on to the lift, her eyes fixed obediently on her itinerary. She wished she had received the itinerary before the weekend so she had had time to properly acquaint herself with it. Now, however, she felt like she was ill-prepared for a Hogwarts exam. Well, she assumed this was how it felt, seeing as she had never been ill-prepared for an exam during all seven years of her magical training.

"Committing your itinerary to memory?" Draco teased, a small smile blending attractively with his signature smirk.

"Mmm," mumbled Hermione, halfway between _Thursday, 9:00 am, Seurasaari_ and _Thursday, 5:00 pm, Dinner at the Tori (Marketplace)_.

As they entered the Portkey Office, a witch whisked them down the hall and into the same room Hermione and Draco had Portkeyed from before. This time a banged up metal pot lid rested on the pillar in the middle of the room.

"All right, then. Everyone hold onto the Portkey," Jordan instructed.

Hermione gripped the rim of the lid, as did the others. After half a minute of everyone alternately looking at each other and the lid, the perimeter of the room began to spin, and then everything around them swirled in a tornado of blurred light and colour. Hermione felt the uncomfortably familiar tug behind her navel as the group whipped around in the portkey's wild vortex. This particular experience lasted horrifically longer than any other portkey trip she had made, and she faintly observed that it must be due to the increased distance from England to Finland. Finally, the spinning began to slow, and Hermione found that the pulling sensation at her navel was subsiding. Then, as if without warning, her feet pounded into the ground and she felt herself once again tipping off balance. Knowing that a fall was inevitable, and being determined not to fall into Draco's arms again, Hermione flung her weight away from him and crashed headlong into an unsuspecting Jordan.

"Oh, um," Jordan flustered as he struggled to right Hermione. "Are you okay?"

Registering Jordan's discomfort, Hermione pulled herself up and said, "Yes, Jordan. Thank you. Just a bit wobbly today." Her smile to Jordan quickly dissipated as she saw Malfoy cover up what suspiciously looked like a laugh behind his hand. "Shut up, Malfoy!" she whispered to him as she turned to follow Jordan and Jocelyn.

She looked at her surroundings as she walked and was surprised to note that they had portkeyed into a train station. Like Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters there was only one set of tracks, but this platform was outside under a concrete overhang. They sky beyond the overhang was remarkably blue. A few people in dark robes milled about the station, presumably waiting for the train to make its appearance. As Hermione continued to admire the small station a slim wizard in black robes approached them with a huge smile.

"Welcome, British Ministry representatives," he said, extending his hand to each of them in turn. "I am so pleased to meet you. My name is Risto Luhtanen. I am the head of International Magical Co-operation for Finland. Mr. Rector told me all about you, and I am thrilled for the chance to work with you all. You are just in time. Minister Juvonen should be along soon. If you'll follow me we'll go directly to the restaurant." As they moved toward the end of the platform he added, "It's a good thing you came without robes, because we are about to enter a Muggle populated area." With that he removed his robe and slipped it into his briefcase, revealing ordinary Muggle clothes beneath.

_At least they know what Muggle clothes are supposed to look like here_, Hermione thought, remembering Mr. Weasley's sad attempts at Muggle style. She ventured a glance at Draco and noticed that he seemed a bit paler than usual, his jaw firmly set as though steeling himself for unpleasantness.

"So," Hermione said, "is the proud pureblood ready for his first Muggle encounter?"

Draco kept looking straight ahead but defended, "This isn't my first Muggle encounter."

Risto, Jordan, and Jocelyn had stopped in front of a dark oak wood door with an ornate brass door handle. Risto turned to them and said, "It's best if we go through in smaller numbers. I'll go through first, and then you come through in pairs."

After seeing four heads nod in agreement Risto pulled open the door and passed through, closing the door behind him. Jordan and Jocelyn followed. Then Draco opened the door and allowed Hermione to pass through before him.

As Hermione crossed over the threshold her eyes widened as she realized they were now standing in the Muggle train station. Large quantities of people raced about, some carrying briefcases like Risto and others carrying packages and shopping bags, all moving purposefully toward their respective platforms. Hermione glanced behind her and noticed that the door through which she had just passed was gone. Instead the wall was smooth and even, unchinked by any hint of a hidden magical door.

Risto led them from the train platforms, through a mammoth train station building with vaulted ceilings, and down a flight of wide stairs to an underground shopping centre. Various Muggle shops carrying everything from clothing to books lined the centre. As they passed a convenience store Hermione heard an odd hollow twanging sound echoing across the centre's walls. She looked towards a music shop and found the source of the sound. A man stood to the side of the shop and blew into a long wooden pole that upturned slightly at the bottom. _A didgeridoo_, she thought. _How fascinating to use a didgeridoo as street entertainment_. Hermione continued watching the man as she passed, and then returned her attention to the rest of the centre. She gazed in the shop windows like a schoolgirl on her first outing to Diagon Alley, the bright colours and decidedly Finnish displays calling her to enter and indulge in the culture. Finally they reached a small storefront at the end of the centre. The wooden sign hanging above the entrance read _Finlandia_.

"We're a few minutes early," Risto noted, checking a rectangular contraption on his belt. "I'll go inside to let them know we're here. Feel free to peek in any of the nearby shops until the Minister arrives."

After Risto had ducked into the restaurant Hermione resumed her avid appraisal of the shops and said, "This is wonderful!"

Draco looked at her and said, "You're talking to me again? Does this mean you're not mad at me anymore?"

Hermione turned and considered him for a moment. Realizing she wasn't quite ready to let him off the hook yet she said, "I never said I wasn't still mad. Ooh! A candy shop!" Her eyes grew wide as she saw brightly coloured displays of different candies and sweets glinting in the shop's window, her punishment for Draco's indiscretions forgotten. Without thinking, she grabbed Draco by the hand and pulled him with her toward the tempting indulgences.

As they entered, a bell attached to the door chimed their presence to the shop keeper. A young woman smiled at them from behind a magazine as she sat at the counter. Hermione busied herself with looking into each colourful bin lining the walls and the centre aisle. "Swedish fish!" she gasped as Draco came to stand behind her.

"Swedish fish?" he asked inquisitively.

"Yes," she answered, not noticing his amused look. "This was my favorite candy growing up. And Honeyduke's doesn't carry them. Oh, I've got to get some of these." She grabbed a clear plastic sack and a metal scoop from the end display and began dumping scoopfuls of the red candies into the sack. She also measured a healthy amount of sourballs and gummy peaches into her sack of fish. Draco continued browsing around the shop as Hermione brought her burgeoning sack to the woman at the counter.

"Are you from England?" the woman asked as she took the sack from Hermione to weigh.

"Yes," Hermione answered.

"I thought so," she said and added, "I like your accent."

"Thanks. You speak English very well," Hermione complimented, eliciting another smile from the Finn.

"Most people here do," the woman responded.

"Good," Hermione admitted, "Because the only thing I know how to say in Finnish is thank you. Oh," she added as an afterthought, "Do you take Visa?"

"Of course." The woman took Hermione's card and ran it through a credit card reader. "So, what brings you to Helsinki—business or pleasure?" she asked, glancing markedly at Draco.

"Oh," Hermione began, also glancing at Draco, "business."

"Hmm. That's too bad," the woman said, her eyes twinkling at Hermione. "It looks like a pleasure to me."

Hermione pinkened a bit at the woman's boldness. _Even foreign women fawn all over him_, she thought.

After signing the credit card slip Hermione thanked the woman ("Kiitos!") and went to stand by Draco who was tapping the bin containing gummy frogs. "What are you doing?" she asked him.

"Why don't they move?" he wondered, continuing to tap the side of the bin.

Hermione giggled and said quietly, "It's Muggle candy. It's not enchanted."

Draco looked disappointedly at her and allowed her to drag him out of the store by the arm, watched entertainedly by the shop woman.

"So what's Visa?" Draco asked Hermione once they were out of the shop.

"You don't know?" Hermione returned, a hint of teasing in her voice.

"I know what a Visa for traveling is," he said, "but I've never seen one used to buy things."

"Well, it's not that kind of Visa," Hermione explained. "This is a credit card. I use it instead of using money, and then later I send money to cover the charges to the credit company that gave me the card. It eliminates the need to carry Muggle money, especially since we haven't converted our wizard money yet."

"Hmm," Draco mused. "Interesting concept."

Hermione looked down at her bag of candy and her enthusiasm rekindled for her fantastic find. She dangled the candy filled sack in front of Draco and said, "Isn't this great?"

Draco laughed and shook his head. "At the expense of sounding cliché, you look like…well…a kid in a candy store."

"Excuse me?" Hermione asked in a mock offended tone. "I'm not a kid."

As she walked briskly ahead of him with a light bounce in her alluringly feminine step, Draco watched her and said in a voice that resembled approval, "No, you're not."

XOXOXOXOXOXO

"So, I am quite pleased to have two of Hogwarts' best and brightest in our midst."

Minister Juvonen sat jovially across the table from Hermione and Draco. He was a tall man with sandy blonde hair and gold-flecked green eyes. Hermione thought he was a rather attractive looking man, and rather young to be a Minister of Magic. He appeared to be a bit younger than her father, and she wondered how a man as young as he could secure his country's highest magical position. Even Jocelyn gazed demurely at Finland's youngest ever Minister of Magic. Hermione supposed that every witch in Finland of voting age had cast their votes from looking at the candidates' appearances rather than at their running platforms.

"So, Hermione, it seems to me that Hogwarts' Head Girl could have chosen any position. What made you choose International Magical Co-operation? Leipä?" Minister Juvonen held out a basket of bread to her as he waited for her answer.

"Thank you," she said, reaching for a piece of bread and setting it on her plate. "Well, I have always enjoyed traveling and learning about foreign cultures. I also believe strongly in cross-cultural unity. How can we expect to co-exist peacefully unless we can strengthen the bonds of understanding with our fellow wizards and witches?"

"A very intelligent assessment. I believe you will do much to further your cause," Minister Juvonen complimented. He then turned to Draco. "And you?"

Hermione turned in her chair to face Draco. She had never heard him talk about why he had chosen the Department of International Magical Co-operation, and she waited attentively for his response.

Draco took a long draw from his cinnamon ale before answering. He set the mug down casually and explained, "I have seen firsthand what can happen to wizard-kind when unity and adherence to laws and co-operation are ignored. I believe that International Magical Co-operation is the only way of ensuring a future free from fear and hatred and of protecting the innocence of those who deserve to have it."

Hermione gaped at Draco. She had never heard him speak so compassionately before. As he again lifted his ale in his hand Hermione looked thoughtfully at him and realized the innocence he spoke of had been ripped from him at a terribly young age. His innocence deserved to have been protected. Perhaps then they wouldn't have had a built-in animosity towards each other. All of a sudden she hated Lucius Malfoy more than she ever had.

"Young Mr. Malfoy assisted Harry Potter in the fight that led to the defeat of Voldemort," Jordan added, smiling paternally at Draco. "He is quite well suited for his position."

Minister Juvonen shifted in his seat, and Hermione thought she saw a flash of recognition cross his face. "Malfoy, did you say?"

"Yes," Draco said unconcernedly. "But don't judge me by my father's memory."

"Oh, of course not," the Minister said hastily.

The remainder of lunch passed with talk of the next day's Ministry visit and the various meetings planned. After dessert, a delicious marshmallow crème confection covered in a thin shell of chocolate, Minister Juvonen excused himself and returned to the Ministry.

"Well," Risto began, clasping his hands in front of him, "Let's get you checked into your hotel."

The British Ministry representatives followed Risto back through the underground shopping center. Hermione once again drank in the colourful shop displays as they passed by the Muggle shops, but this time she kept darting quick glances at Draco. She wondered briefly if he had honestly meant what he told the Finnish Minister. Was he possibly trying to make up in some way for his abhorred past? Had he really denounced the evil his father so thoroughly embraced? Was he really willing to work on the side of good to make sure no one would ever have to live under the rule of evil oppressors, as he had? His light blond locks wisped lightly across his forehead as he walked, his head up, his eyes straight ahead. Hermione had hoped to get his attention so she could try to see what was going on behind his secretive eyes, but he had no intention of even momentarily glancing her way.

After ascending the stairs to the train station, Risto led them out of the building and across the street to a covered bus stop.

"You'll find that the Muggle transportation in Helsinki is quite efficient," Risto said while handing a boarding pass to each of them. "This pass will be valid throughout your stay here. You can get anywhere around the city by bus. It's a fantastic way to view Helsinki, and a bit easier for visitors than Apparating. Many anti-Apparating charms have just recently been put up throughout the city, and we wouldn't want you to get into any trouble for accidentally trying to Apparate into a restricted area."

"Why have anti-Apparating charms been put up?" Hermione asked.

"Well," Risto replied a bit hesitantly, "England is not the only country on high alert. The whole of Europe is aware of a Dark Movement forming, and until we know who, what, and where we must all take precautions. But don't worry," he added kindly when Hermione paled slightly. "You have no reason to fear here."

As Hermione pondered the phrase "a Dark Movement forming" a white bus pulled up to the bus stop. They each in turn followed Risto onto the bus and swept their passes across a quadrated sensor pad. Hermione found an empty seat facing away from the window into the center aisle and plunked down into it.

So, there was a Dark Movement rising. Although she had suspected it, Graham had never confirmed it. And Harry and Ron were in the middle of it. She leaned her head back against the cool window and was only just barely aware of the passing scenery flying by the window opposite her. She hadn't had one owl from Harry or Ron in the two weeks they had been gone. Her roommate, Susan, had owled her several times, but "Harry and Ron are both okay" was just not enough of an assurance for her.

As though her thoughts spilled out of her head visible to anyone who looked, a calm voice beside her said, "Don't worry. I'm sure they're okay."

Pulled from her stupor, Hermione turned and looked straight into the eyes she had so often seen hatred pouring from. Now they were calm and relaxed, a cool blue sea blending with the reflection of swirling grey clouds.

"How did you know…"

"You're not very good at hiding your feelings," he interrupted.

"But you sure are," she observed, not able to identify whether he was concerned or merely bored.

"I had to be," he said dryly. "I'm a Malfoy. Showing emotion is a weakness they can penetrate."

He didn't have to continue. Hermione knew what he meant. "They"—his father, Voldemort, the Death Eaters—they would use his feelings against him in any way they could. She felt a pang that constricted her heart as she imagined a little blond boy stripped of his humanity and starved of affection doing anything he could to find a place to belong. For the briefest of moments she could understand how Draco Malfoy had been the way he had been. And she startled herself by desperately hoping that he was now becoming the man he should have been  
nurtured to become.

When the bus slowed to a stop, Risto stood and led them onto the street. "Your hotel is only a few minutes' walk from here."

They walked down small pedestrian streets lined with lovely Muggle shops. When they turned down a one-way motor street Hermione's mouth opened in awe. More Muggle shops lined one side of the street while a large grassy park area graced the other side. People of all ages roamed the park area, some of them enjoying a shady spot on the grass while others walked along the wide paved walkway bisecting the lawn. At one end of the park area, in the middle of the paved walkway, stood a fountain. Water rushed hastily over the top bowl spilling into the large basin beneath. Mothers grabbed their toppling children who reached to touch the water while lovers held hands and walked contentedly around the fountain's circumference. Everything about the scene before her was carefree and happy, and Hermione found her brooding transforming into content.

Risto stopped in front of an unassuming little shop façade and said pleasantly, "Ah, here we are."

Hermione glanced at Draco, who returned her questioning look. As they passed through the plain white front door they were greeted with a beautiful sight. The walls gleamed bright white with elegant moldings detailing them. Lovely portraits of classical witches and wizards hung along the walls interspersed with intricately patterned woven wall hangings. Floral patterned tapestry sofas sat in the entry area beckoning guests to relax and enjoy the pleasant atmosphere. Their shoes clicked prominently against the polished marble floor as they made their way to the check-in desk.

"Four rooms for the British Ministry," Risto told the wizard at the desk.

"Wands, please," the wizard requested. They handed him their wands and watched as he placed each one in turn onto a shiny metal scale. He punched a few keys on the keypad located just below the scale, and Hermione watched as each wand glowed a bright blue. When the glow ended the wizard removed the wand and replaced it with the next wand until the process was complete. He then handed back their wands and said, "Rooms 20 through 23. Only your wand will open your door. All you need is the 'Alohamora' spell."

"Kiitos," Risto said and turned to his Ministry guests. "Your trunks will be sent to your rooms. The tori, that is, the marketplace, is just down the street near the harbour. It's quite lovely there. Lots of souvenirs and trinkets. And the best ice cream in the world. You can change your wizard money into Muggle money here at the check-in desk. Do let me know if you need anything. I'll see you all in the morning." He then turned and exited the lobby through the front door.

"Well," Jordan said, "I guess you may do whatever you would like for the rest of the day. Just don't over do it. Remember, we have our first meeting at 8:00 in the morning." With that, he gave Hermione and Draco a wink and he and Jocelyn walked toward the lift to their rooms.

Hermione looked at Draco and said, "I think I'll go see what this tori is like. How about you?"

Draco looked out the small plain white door and replied, "That sounds good."

They changed their wizard money into Muggle money at the check-in desk and, without another word, made their way out of the lovely hotel lobby back into the warm August air.


	7. Chapter 7

Once outside of the hotel lobby, Hermione and Draco walked unhurriedly down the sidewalk towards the tori. They passed by a shop window displaying numerous brightly coloured bedspreads, comforters, and duvet covers. To Hermione's surprise, Draco paused at the window and peered in at a red duvet patterned with wide white swirls. Hermione stopped next to him and admired the linens as well.

"Marimekko," he said lightly. "My mother used to love their work. They're originally a wizard business, you know, but they decided they could make a larger profit by marketing to Muggles as well."

Hermione turned to him and gave him a sympathetic smile. Draco may have been able to hide his emotions from the world, but she could still tell that he missed his mother. She vaguely wondered if she could tell because he, for some reason, allowed her to, or because she was getting more accustomed to him. Just then he turned to look at her, his eyes masked and revealing no secrets, and he began walking again toward the tori.

As they neared the Finnish marketplace Hermione smiled in glee at the busy, colourful booths lining the paved square of the tori. Long tables dazzled with a wide array of fresh produce presented themselves from under makeshift overhangs. Rainbows of red potatoes, orange carrots, and green cucumbers cascaded across table displays, hypnotizing the tori patrons with their colourful perfection. Scores of people crowded around the produce tables, all calling out their orders in Finnish to the proprietors who bagged the produce and tallied the cost. Further down from the produce displays laid endless tables showing off various wares. Woven wood baskets, shining necklaces and rings, traditional costumed ceramic dolls, and wood carved bear statues were among the offerings inviting the tori visitors to sample the traditions of Helsinki. Hermione and Draco walked casually past the merchandise laden tables, stopping every few vendors to examine some interesting find or another.

Hermione was just about to walk past a jewelry table when a small grouping of pewter necklace charms caught her eye. She reached out to the charms and gently fingered one. It was no more than two centimetres high but the intricacies of the details were stunning. The figure, with a long, scaled body and menacing eyes, was the most accurate representation of a dragon she had ever seen. It was beautiful and captivating, and Hermione was just about to show it to Draco when another charm immediately caused her to freeze. A cold terror ran up her spine and down her extremities, causing her to drop the dragon figure back to the table. A shock like freezing water ran through her veins and she felt herself pale and weaken. Finally, through her paralyzed fear she whispered, "Draco."

Within seconds she felt Draco touch her shoulder, his warm hand searing her like a hot poker branding a block of ice. "Are you okay? You look as white as…" He stopped abruptly as his eyes followed her trembling hand pointing to a pewter carving in the center of the display. The charm was the same size as the dragon, but terrifyingly more ominous. Draco's grip on Hermione's shoulder tightened as he reached his other hand out to pick up the charm. He brushed his fingers lightly over the pewter skull and down to the twisted snake protruding from its mouth. The Dark Mark.

Hermione turned her head to look up at Draco and his hand slid down her shoulder to her arm as he pulled her in to him to keep her steady. With an expression of controlled indifference he looked at a woman with her back to them standing near a seated old man and spoke.

"Who is the designer of this figure?"

The middle aged woman turned to face Draco and Hermione and said with a slight accent, "Do you like it?" She indicated the old man behind her with a smile and continued, "My father designs all of our charms."

"This charm is quite intriguing and brilliantly detailed," Draco complimented, his expression betraying no hint of concern. "May I ask where he got his inspiration for this design?"

"Of course," the woman replied. She turned to her father and spoke to him in Finnish. The old man looked up at Draco as his daughter spoke and then responded as though Draco could understand him. When the old man finished his explanation his daughter paused momentarily before hesitantly interpreting into English for them. "He says that he saw it in the night sky one night about two weeks ago at his mökki and thought it would make an excellent charm."

"Is that right?" Draco asked rhetorically. "And what is this 'mökki' you mentioned?"

"It's a summer cabin on a lake near Mäntyharju," the woman said. "Actually," she added in a hushed voice, "I think it's probably just the foolish imaginings of an old man." She nodded conspiratorially at them before turning back to a black case filled with more pewter figures.

Draco raised an eyebrow at her and said with unmasked charm, "I think it's an intriguing story and I would love to hear more about it sometime."

The woman looked appraisingly at Draco and Hermione before smiling. She watched the two for a moment longer and then looked down at the pewter sea swirling against the rich black cloth covering the table. Almost instantly she looked back up again and decidedly offered, "If you're here for a few more days you and your wife should go up to see the cabin. It's a lovely area and is quite well suited for honeymooners." Her eyes glittered with delight as she glanced meaningfully at Draco's arm draped protectively around Hermione.

"But…" Hermione began.

"That would be lovely, wouldn't it, sweetheart?" Draco said, swiftly cutting Hermione off before she could deny the woman's assumptions. He wrapped his other arm around Hermione and shot her a look that said _Just play along_.

Hermione felt her heart rate quicken as Draco pressed himself gently into her. She put on her most convincingly in-love smile and answered, "Yes, quite lovely."

"Well," the woman began, good naturedly interrupting what she saw as a tender newlywed moment, "If you would like to see Finland from a native's perspective we have two cabins on the lake, and one of them is vacant right now. My father is a sucker for young love, and I'm sure he would offer a few nights to you free of charge."

"Why, thank you," Draco responded. "We just may take you up on that." His eyes sparkled at Hermione as he graced her with a rakish smirk that left her tingling down to her toes.

The woman smiled at the "newlyweds" and said, "If you're still interested tomorrow come by and we'll see if we can work something out."

"Thank you…"

"Marja," the woman supplied.

"Thank you, Marja," Draco finished. "By the way, I'd like to purchase this charm."

"And this one," Hermione said quickly, looking up to see Draco's sly grin.

Marja again smiled at the couple as she wrapped up the figures of the dragon and the Dark Mark.

"You're quite the actor," Hermione observed as she and Draco made their way from the tori back to their hotel.

"You're not so bad yourself once you catch on. And it got us an invitation to the scene of the crime." Draco still walked with one arm around Hermione to make sure that the charade was kept up just in case Marja could still see them. When they were out of the sight line of Marja's table Draco dropped his arm from Hermione's waist and turned to look at her.

"Well, this isn't good," he said, a note of irritation in his voice.

"No, it's not," Hermione agreed. "What do you think is going on?"

Draco gave her a penetrating look and admitted, "I have no idea. It couldn't be Voldemort. Potter got him good. And even if Dark Magic can conjure him back it couldn't happen so quickly."

"Maybe it's a copycat," Hermione ventured.

"Maybe. But only a Death Eater would dare conjure the Dark Mark." Draco unconsciously ran his fingers through his silky white blond hair.

Hermione gasped. "But all of the Death Eaters were either imprisoned or killed."

"Maybe not," Draco said plaintively. "You remember how Barty Crouch, Jr., was able to conjure the Dark Mark at the Quidditch World Cup just before our fourth year? Everyone thought he had died."

"You knew about that?" Hermione questioned.

Draco gave her a withering look and queried, "You do know who my father was, don't you?" He turned his eyes quickly from her somewhat hurt visage and said, "Yes, I knew. In fact, I knew a lot more than my father gave me credit for."

"Draco?" Hermione gently touched his arm and looked worryingly into his troubled face. "If you knew all about the Death Eaters I'm sure they knew all about you. And, in the end, you betrayed them. If a Death Eater really conjured the Dark Mark, do you think you may be in danger?"

Draco weighed her words for a moment and then looked her straight in the eye. With unflinching steadiness he answered, "Yes."

Hermione swallowed with difficulty and said, "Well, there's only one thing for us to do. Let's tell Jordan." With that Hermione grabbed Draco's hand and led him to their hotel, leaving no room for debate.

xoxoxoxoxoxo

"Yes, well, like I said, we have a team on that already. We really have no leads as of yet, but we have been thoroughly searching that area since the Dark Mark was first sighted there."

Hermione, Draco, Jordan, and Jocelyn sat on wing back armchairs gazing intently into the fireplace. To the ordinary observer it would appear that the four were silently contemplating their own reasons for the meaning of life. That is, unless that observer looked into the fireplace as well and saw the disembodied head of a man floating in and around the lapping flames of the glowing fire.

As soon as Hermione and Draco had mentioned talk of a Dark Mark sighting to Jordan, he had summoned Risto Juvonen for a Floo conference. For the last ten minutes Hermione and Draco had recounted a somewhat altered account of their discovery at the tori that afternoon.

"Are you sure that you don't remember what the person who described the Dark Mark looked like?" Risto looked between Hermione and Draco, hoping for a new answer to his already twice asked question.

"No," Draco lied expertly. "We just heard it in passing."

"Well, everyone," Risto said resignedly, "Watch your step and keep your ears open."

Five minutes later, after reassurances from Jordan and Jocelyn that everything would be handled appropriately, Hermione and Draco walked down the hall to their rooms.

"Why didn't you tell them the truth?" Hermione demanded outside of the door to her room.

Draco leaned against the wall, his arms folded across his chest and his grey eyes penetrating hers. "Come on, Granger, you know as well as I do that if I had told them about Marja and her father the Finnish Ministry would be modifying their memories as we speak. Marja's father is an untapped resource. We may still be able to get some pertinent information from him." He then walked in through the open door to her room.

"We?" Hermione looked at Draco as though he had just suggested that they run up and down the hotel hallway wearing nothing but the knitted baubles Hermione had made for the house elves their fifth year. "We?" she repeated, following him inside her room. "Malfoy, _we_ are not trained to investigate official Ministry matters, nor do _we_ have any jurisdiction here, being British Ministry representatives."

He continued to look at her, an air of lazy impertinence resting across his annoyingly handsome face. "Well," he began, a hint of his typical drawl punctuating the air, "if you want to sit back and watch Death Eaters regain their strength, then by all means, be my guest." His eyes remained fixed on Hermione, and he smirked slowly as she shifted uncomfortably beneath his gaze.

"What are you talking about, Malfoy?" she snapped. "Risto said the Finnish Ministry is working on it. The Death Eaters won't regain their strength."

"Oh, so sure about that, are you?" he said mockingly. "Have you forgotten the whole Fudge-Voldemort cover-up so quickly? I'm sure the Ministry is working on it—working on a cover-up, that is."

"Oh, please, Malfoy. Not everyone is as suspicious and untrusting as you are."

Draco raised an eyebrow at her and countered, "Of course not. But then again, not everyone has seen firsthand how a rotten, horrible Death Eater like my father can buy his way into the Ministry and pay for their silence."

Hermione considered his reasoning and looked thoughtfully at the floor as Draco's words sunk in. So Lucius Malfoy had paid for the Ministry's silence. Perhaps Minister Fudge had been under some sort of spell, but, even if he had been, the integrity of the Ministry had been compromised. And if the British Ministry could be compromised, certainly other Ministries could be, too. As though seeing the wheels of her mind spin from one conclusion to the next, Draco decided to hit home one more reason for her to go along with him on this.

"Well," he said casually, "I suppose even if Death Eaters make any headway here in Finland, we always have your precious Boy Wonder around to save the world again."

Hermione's eyes immediately snapped up to Draco's at his irreverent mention of Harry. Draco's smirk grew as he saw the protective concern flash across Hermione's face, and he knew that she would now agree with him.

"Let's just get this straight, Malfoy," she said, her voice warningly dangerous, "You did not talk me into this, I made my own decision. And," she added, seeing his smirk of triumph, "At no time during this little charade are you to expect me to perform any 'wifely duties' for you. Are we clear?"

"Completely," he said sounding half-amused, half-insulted. "I wouldn't dream of taking any liberties with you, Mrs. Thomas."

"Mrs. Who?" she asked confusedly.

"Well, you certainly don't expect me to go poking around into Death Eater business with the last name Malfoy, do you?" he posed snidely.

"Of course not," she replied just as snidely. "I'm just surprised you chose a Gryffindor name to go by, _Mr. Thomas_."

"Dean's not such a bad guy," Draco defended, and then added hastily, "for being a Gryffindor, that is."

"Mm-hmm," Hermione mumbled, smiling knowingly at Draco. "Well, then, goodnight Mr. Gryffindor."

"I think you mean goodnight oh-most-handsome-sex-god-husband-of-mine." Draco quickly opened the door and slipped outside. A pillow sailed out of the air and thudded against the door just as the latch clicked.

xoxoxoxoxoxo

The next morning was a mixture of delight and dread for Hermione. The four British Ministry representatives had been ushered by Risto past the slowly awakening tori to a small two story ship relegated to ferry them from the dock of the Helsinki coast to the battlements of the Suomenlinna fortress floating in the distance. The ride was exhilarating. Fresh, crisp air whipped lightly across Hermione's cheeks leaving them pink with health and life. As the massive stone walls of the fortress loomed even higher with each nearing metre, she could feel the promise of a rich history waiting to be told.

She glanced at Draco, who seemed to be entertaining his own excited thoughts about the famed fortress, and remembered, with a sense of foreboding, the charade she had agreed to engage in. On their first day off, they would go to Marja's father's cabin in Mäntyharyu, posing as newlyweds on their honeymoon, and glean what they could about the mysterious appearance of the Dark Mark. _It won't be that bad_, she tried to tell herself. _After all, we're just pretending. And if we do find something we can contact Harry and Ron with it._ Her rationalizations complete, she turned back to the fortress of Suomenlinna, which was rapidly gaining clearer focus and growing increasingly larger before her very eyes.

As they disembarked the ferry Risto began an impromptu tour of the grounds. "What you see here is the Muggle tourist section of Suomenlinna." He spoke freely and without concern, which meant, Hermione surmised, that the group of people thronging in their same direction were witches and wizards also heading for the Ministry. "That little food stand over there," he said gesturing to a small building on the right with a serving window, "is wizard run, so if you run out of Muggle money they can change your money for you."

They continued on across the dirt-paved street, passing various stone and wooden edifices. Risto commented on everything as they passed, and Hermione drank in every word.

"Now this," Risto said pointing to several connected arched stone entrances leading into dim caverns, "were once used as strategic weapons rooms. The troops would aim their artillery through those stone openings facing the water and beat the approaching armies back. The openings are virtually undetectable from a distance and helped a great deal in the enemy's defeat. But now," Risto said a bit contemptuously, "they are used as secret meeting places for either associates with dark matters to discuss or for young couples with raging hormones. Either way, most people tend to stay away from those caverns, especially if a discussion or—what is the term you use?—'snogging' is being indulged within."

After five minutes of walking, Risto stopped in front of a small grassy hill. "And this," he said proudly, "is the entrance to our Ministry of Magic." He smiled at the four puzzled faces before him and began marching them around the side of the hill.

Hermione blinked her eyes several times hoping that the Ministry would suddenly materialize before her, but she still continued to see only a grass covered mound, much to her chagrin. Her eyebrows knitted together in confusion as she followed Risto around the hill.

Finally, as they rounded the hill and approached the back of it, Hermione saw that the hill was not really a hill at all. It was a cleverly hidden fort. It looked as though someone had taken a ridiculously large sword and chopped right through the top of the hill, leaving only one half of the hill standing, and in the flat side of the hill someone had stuck a door.

"When this fort was built someone had the clever idea to disguise it," Risto supplied, seeing the wheels turn through his four comrades' eyes. "They heaped soil up on the side of the fort seen by the water and planted grass all over it. From the water it looks just like a hill, but for the troops it was an indiscernible and very safe fort. Now it is the Ministry of Magic."

Risto approached the small arched door and rapped three times on it with his wand. A small round speaker, the size of the speaker on Hermione's father's stereo at home, materialized on the wall near the door. Risto leaned in towards the speaker and said, "Risto Juvonen, Head of the Department of International Magical Co-operation, escorting Jordan Roberts, Jocelyn Boyles, Draco Malfoy, and Hermione Granger of the British Ministry of Magic."

Almost instantaneously a small slot appeared below the speaker and spit out four shiny badges bearing their names and the title "British Ministry Representative" on each. Risto took the badges from the slot, and, after doling out the badges, the slot and the speaker both melded back into the wall leaving no hint that they had ever been there. The small door then opened on its own and the four visitors entered the Ministry, led by Risto.

After they had passed through the outer door into a plain room with wooden walls and floors they entered an equally unassuming lift and sank down the shaft to what Hermione supposed must have been one floor down. When the lift doors opened, Hermione gasped at the sight before her. Whatever Hermione had imagined the Finnish Ministry to look like, this wasn't it. She knew that Ministries were lavish, but she never would have believed that the Finnish Ministry would be more magnificent than the British Ministry.

When they walked off the lift they stepped onto high pile, super plush plum coloured carpet that seemed to beg for its visitors to lie down and roll around in its lush softness. It was the kind of carpet that invited young lovers to forsake their beds for the silky touch of its fibrous fingers, and the only thing stopping Hermione from indulging in its wily charms was the fact that Draco Malfoy was the only one of their party suitable for joining her in the task. _So this is why some call it "shag" carpet,_ she thought mischievously. At that moment she glanced unconsciously at Draco, and she blushed a deep crimson when he gave her a…_what was that?_...a "smoldering" look? She shook her head and looked away. This carpet must be enchanted to make people think of illicit encounters with attractive members of the opposite sex. But why would it be? She shook her head again, not wanting to think about the possibility that perhaps Draco held the charm and not the carpet. Instead she focused herself on the rest of the décor around her.

The walls were cream colored, and gold pinstripes ran the length of them from ceiling to carpet. Every thirty feet or so sets of highly polished mahogany double doors opened into large conference rooms, all furnished with large oval tables and high backed padded chairs. Hermione heard a faint buzzing sound and looked up only to see what appeared to be brightly coloured Christmas lights flitting across the darkened charcoal ceiling. Upon closer inspection, she realized that the lights were actually tiny fairies emitting different colours as they zoomed across the vaulted ceiling.

After what felt like at least a kilometre of walking, they approached a large desk made of the same polished mahogany as the conference room doors. At the desk sat a woman with short light brown hair that curled up at the nape of her neck. She smiled as they stopped at the desk.

"Good morning, Risto," she said brightly.

"Good morning, Eva," Risto returned. "These are the British Ministry representatives."

"Tervetuloa! Welcome!" she greeted. "Enjoy your stay here. The security station is expecting you." She pushed a button on the desk which glowed a vibrant purple, and a door to the left of the desk opened.

Risto then led them through the door. After the security check, which consisted of a wand weighing and stepping past a metallic door frame much like those used at Muggle airports, they were escorted to another lift, this one with golden grilles much like the ones at the British Ministry.

They exited the lift at the fourth stop and were met by a crowd of smiling witches and wizards all looking anxiously at their British visitors. After greetings of "Terve," "Hello," and "So pleased to meet you" and no less than two dozen handshakes, they were led to a large office with four desks.

"This office will be yours for the duration of your stay," Risto explained. "Please let me know if you require anything more than what we have here for you."

"Thank you, Risto," Jordan said. "Well, let's begin, shall we?"

And with that, Hermione began the assignment she had been anticipating for two weeks.

xoxoxoxoxoxo

"So what happens if a Muggle does find his way onto a Quidditch pitch?"

A young man perhaps a year or two older than Hermione paused in his fervent note taking, his quill poised expectantly above his parchment.

Hermione smiled. She loved seeing others whose thirst for knowledge matched her own. And she loved having all of the answers. "Well," she started kindly, "Probably a lot of memory modification will happen. Four years ago when Britain hosted the Quidditch World Cup the Ministry worked overtime with memory modification charms. It was quite a chore. But with the new protection charms and Wizard Responsibility legislation in place you probably won't have too much trouble with Muggle interference."

The young man scratched down Hermione's response and then rolled up his parchment. "Thank you so much, Ms. Granger, for all of your help."

"It was my pleasure, Mikko."

Mikko stood, parchment and quill in hand, gave a short smile and a nod to Hermione, and exited the office.

Hermione stood smiling after him until a muffled scoff interrupted her reverie. She turned to see Malfoy covering his undoubtedly smirking mouth with his hand. "What?" she asked testily.

"You really loved that, didn't you?" he enquired, lowering his hand to rest it on the arm of his chair. "You still can't resist knowing everything, can you?"

She shot him an impatient look and answered, "We're here to help and give answers, Malfoy. I'm just doing my job."

"Fifteen minutes into our lunch hour?" He tapped his wand against a small clock whose hand was pointing to "lunch" and gave her a humored smirk.

"You didn't have to wait for me, you know," she pointed out, wondering why he had waited.

"Actually," he began complacently, "I think we need to discuss our game plan for visiting Marja's father's cabin."

"Oh," Hermione responded a bit nervously. "Okay."

After quickly straightening the books and parchment on her desk, she and Malfoy found their way out of the Ministry and onto the Suomenlinna grounds. They walked together without talking, both of them quietly observing the goings on around them.

The grounds were quite busy for a weekday afternoon, Hermione supposed, but it wasn't surprising considering it was still summer. The sun sat high on its heavenly throne as it shone down its warmth to everything it could touch. A cool breeze from across the water billowed through Hermione's hair, challenging the sun's heat with its blessed respite, making the temperature of the day perfect. Children carelessly raced past in shorts and t-shirts, while adults in long pants and light sweaters chastened their straying progeny, all indifferent to the weather but immensely enjoying the curiosities of the fortress around them. Grassy knolls dotted the side of the fortress away from the mainland, a few large cannons provided interesting photo ops, and a large Finnish flag repeatedly furled and unfurled itself in the wind. Hermione watched all of the tourists examining the sights with carefree demeanors, and at that moment she felt worlds away from the possible threat looming over both the Wizard and Muggle worlds brought on by the bold appearance of the Dark Mark.

Hermione and Draco both walked on in silent contemplations as they both finished the makkara, Finnish sausage, they had ordered from the wizard-run food stand Risto had pointed out to them that morning. After tossing their empty wrappers into the nearest waste bin Hermione broached the subject she had been apprehensive about bringing up.

"So, how do we go about this?" she asked diplomatically.

Draco pondered her question and continued walking for a moment, then leaned up against a stone wall, his hands in his pockets. "Well, first we need to go back to the tori to see Marja and her father. With any luck their offer to visit his cabin still stands. Then we spend the weekend at the cabin getting any information we can about the Dark Mark and who might have conjured it."

Hermione looked at him doubtfully and asked, "Do you really think they'll know anything? Anything useful in discovering who's behind this, that is?"

Draco shook his head thoughtfully and responded, "I don't know. But it's worth a try."

"Draco," Hermione began, "I'm still not so sure we should be doing this. I mean, it's really not our place to poke around into a foreign Ministry's official business. Besides, what if we run into a foreign Ministry agent on assignment? How do we explain ourselves? This newlywed thing might work on Marja and her father, but I don't think the Ministry will buy it considering they know who we are."

"Actually, any field agents they have on the case _don't_ know who we are. In fact, they'll probably think we're just Muggles, too." Draco grimaced slightly at the thought of being mistaken for a Muggle, and Hermione would have laughed at him had she not been overly concerned about being caught. He looked at her dubious expression and added with a teasing leer, "Of course, if they do recognize us we can just tell them we needed a private place to sate our raging teenage hormones." One corner of his mouth raised in a satisfied smirk as Hermione's concern was quickly replaced by indignation.

"And that's another thing, Malfoy," Hermione warned pointing her index finger at him. "Just because we're pretending to be married doesn't give you the right to grope, fondle, or in any way improperly touch me. And the 'it's-all-for-the-sake-of-the-cause' excuse will not fly. We may be posing as Muggles, but I'll still have my wand and I won't hesitate to use it."

"Down girl!" Draco responded haughtily. "Geez, Granger, you make it sound like I'd even want to do any of those things to you. Perhaps I should be warning you to keep your hands off of my perfect person."

"Perfect?" she scoffed incredulously. "You've got to be kidding. Malfoy, the day you're perfect is the day I will personally conjure Voldemort back from the hell Harry sent him to."

"Don't make promises you don't intend to keep, Granger," he taunted, his eyes calm and unaffected.

"You are such a—"

Before Hermione could even fully form the insult in her mind Draco's eyes flashed dangerously and he grabbed her arms and pulled her forcibly through an archway in the stone wall. Although the sun shone bright the stone cavern was dim, the brightness outside barely penetrating through the arched entry and the small window opposite. Hermione stood in the cavern shocked, her arms still held captive by Draco. She began to regain her senses and opened her mouth to question Draco's actions when he pushed her back into the stone wall and covered her mouth with his hand.

Hermione's eyes widened in fear at Draco's sudden irrational behavior. He jerked his head back to the arched entry for a moment and Hermione took the opportunity to reach for her wand, but before she could extract it from her pocket Draco had turned back to her. And then he did something so unexpected, something so unpredictable, that she couldn't move. He kissed her.

Hermione's mind swam through a fog as her brain fought to register the fact that Draco Malfoy was kissing her. His lips were firm and unyielding on hers, and finally her fight or flight defense mechanism kicked in. She brought her arms up to his chest and tried desperately to push him away. As though anticipating this reaction, he grabbed both of her wrists and forced them to her sides, his body bridging the gap to hers and pushing her firmly into the stone behind her.

Her mind fogged over again as she felt his lips still hard against hers. In her disorientation she breathed in his cologne, spicy yet sweet, and tasted the saltiness of the sausage on his lips mingling with that of her own. Her lips were dry from the wind and his unsurrendering lips. Unconsciously she flicked her tongue out to wet her lips. Immediately she realized what she had done, but it was too late. As though having opened the floodgates in invitation, his lips parted and his tongue hesitantly touched her lips, also tasting the saltiness. As his tongue gently traced the rim of her lips she felt a strange, electric sensation course through her, beginning at the roots of her hair and striking like wildfire down her body and out through her extremities. Without thought or consideration she let out a guttural moan at this new electricity she felt.

Almost instantaneously Draco let go of her wrists and began sliding his hands gently up and down her arms, his lips softening and easing up in pressure. He was no longer demanding and rigid, but rather gentle and soft. The fog over Hermione's mind only thickened as she felt Draco soften, his hands and lips gently caressing her. As though instinctively she brought her hands up and placed them on his chest, slowly feeling the strong muscles rippled under her fingertips. As he slid one hand around her waist and the other languidly up and down her side she brought her hands up to tangle them in his hair. She was vaguely aware of voices, but quickly dismissed them as her fingers played with the silky strands of his soft hair.

All too soon, his lips slowed in their movement, as did his hands, and he pulled his lips cautiously away from hers. Her eyes remained closed and her arms rested on his shoulders as she fought to keep her knees from buckling under her. Very slowly she opened her eyes to meet his. His face was unreadable, but his breath was coming quickly, almost as raggedly as her own. Not quite sure what had just happened, or why, she said the first thing that popped into her mind.

"Oh my. Whatever will your girlfriend think?"

He looked at her with a momentarily puzzled expression, and then recognition came over his eyes as he replied, "Oh, you mean Anna?"

Hermione nodded slowly in response.

He laughed lazily and said, "She's not my girlfriend."

"But didn't you and she…"

"No, she and I…didn't."

She searched his eyes disbelievingly, and then said softly, "Oh."

The two remained silent for a moment as they continued to look in each other's eyes.

"So," she ventured timidly, "What brought that on?"

"I saw a Death Eater."

Her mind took a moment to register this information before she blurted out, "What?"

"Shh," he hissed. "He may be able to hear us."

"So let me get this straight," she said lowering her voice to a whisper. "You saw a Death Eater, so you saw it as an opportunity for a little snogging?"

Draco looked at her disappointedly and said, "Oh please. Don't be ridiculous."

"Well then?" she prompted. "What brought all…_this_," she indicated the two of them, "on?"

"Do you remember what this cavern is?" he asked. After a moment of her blank stare he said, "This is where shifty people meet to discuss their business, or…"

"…where young couples come to snog," she finished.

"Exactly," Draco began. "Well, I've never personally met this Death Eater before, but I've seen him at the Manor on business with my father. And the Manor is filled with portraits, including ones of me, so I know he'd be able to recognize me."

"So you dragged me in here and…occupied yourself so he couldn't see you," she pieced together.

"In essence," he confirmed.

"Why didn't you just drag me away from him down the opposite path?" she asked confusedly.

"Because I didn't see him until after he saw me. I just hope we got inside before he _recognized_ me."

"Yeah," she agreed a bit dejectedly. She felt herself warming with embarrassment at having worked herself up over an event that Draco saw merely as an escape route. "So, now what?"

"Now we go back to work, wait it out, and hope to catch Marja at the tori on our way back to the hotel."

She nodded slowly as Draco finally pulled his body away from hers. Immediately a rush of cool air replaced the warmth that his absent body had only moments earlier provided.

"I'm…sorry if I scared you," he said, realizing what his behavior must have seemed like to her.

"It's okay," she said, and he gave her a short, awkward smile before turning and leading the way out of the cavern.

Although he _had_ freaked her out, and she found her own response to him even more disturbing, she smiled at his retreating figure. She had never seen him in an awkward moment before, and it made her feel just a little bit better to know that even the high and mighty Draco Malfoy wasn't so high and mighty after all. And that maybe, just maybe, he was as confused about the whole thing as she was. She followed him out of the cavern and caught up with him, her mind still reeling with the feel of his body against hers, a feeling she knew she wouldn't be able to shake off very easily.


	8. Chapter 8

The next few days passed in an anxious whirl of conferences and reports, the days spent in continued consultation of Magical Law and the nights spent in compiling a suitable report to give to Graham upon their return. Hermione was glad for the distraction provided by her assignment, but when her mind was free to roam she found herself ruminating about what in the world she was getting herself into by agreeing to poke her nose into Ministry, and possibly Death Eater, affairs with Malfoy.

Malfoy. And that was yet another predicament entirely.

For days Hermione had been trying to figure out what had gotten into her. It's not like she actually liked him, for heaven's sake. In fact, _like_ was something she had never felt for Draco Malfoy. Now, granted, she didn't hate him anymore, but like was probably too strong a word for what she felt for him. So what did she feel for him? He did kiss her—quite amazingly, in fact—and she had most unequivocally kissed him back. But that didn't necessarily mean that she actually felt something for him, did it? After all, she felt something for Harry and she had never even kissed him before.

Ah, Harry. She sighed unconsciously and looked out the train car at the passing scenery. It seemed ages since that night in the Starlight Lane Park when Ron had interrupted them with the news that took Harry and him away from her. She was still worried sick about them. She hadn't received a single owl from either of them since they had been assigned abroad. Susan had owled her a few times with scantily insufficient assurances that they were both fine, but her mind was still fraught with concern. She knew Susan was doing her best to keep her informed without revealing anything that could be manipulated if intercepted, but Hermione still cursed her under her breath for being so annoyingly vague.

Hermione set her chin defiantly and steeled herself for her upcoming weekend. If she could discover anything—_anything_—that might help to uncover and end this new Dark Rising, and bring Harry and Ron home quickly and safely in the process, then it was worth the effort of this little charade she was embarking on. So she would be deceiving two of the nicest Finns she had ever met. So she would be pretending to be Draco's sweet little wife. So what? She was working toward the greater good. And in her mind, that was the only push she needed to summon up an award-winning performance.

In fact, Hermione was so caught up with getting into her "character" that she didn't even notice when Draco reached over and took her hand in his. She continued to unseeingly stare at the blurred countryside racing past the train until a small tapping on the back of her hand broke her concentration. She glanced over to see Draco looking amusedly at her.

"Very deep in thought today, aren't we, Granger?"

Still feeling ready for the performance of a lifetime she pasted an adoringly sweet smile on her face and cooed, "You mean Thomas. Mrs. Thomas."

Draco's amusement grew as he saw her already stepping into her new role. "Yes, of course, _Mrs._ Thomas. By the way, that reminds me…" He broke off from speaking and Hermione became aware of his hand still holding hers. She was ready for the charade, but she wasn't about to let him play up their fabricated relationship until absolutely necessary. She tried to pull her hand from his but he squeezed more firmly, making it impossible for her to wriggle her hand free.

"What are you doing?" she asked, beginning to feel mildly flustered.

He pulled something out of his pocket and leered mockingly at her. "What do you think I'm doing?" he asked as innocently as his leer would allow. "I'm making you my wife."

Hermione shuddered involuntarily as he looked deeply into her eyes. Despite her slight  
trepidation she couldn't pull her eyes away from his. She felt something smooth and cool slide onto her finger as he said sultrily, "Till death do us part." With that, he set her hand back onto the armrest and stood up.

She looked at him for a moment, eerily amazed at how quickly he could switch moods, and then looked at her hand lying against the armrest. What she saw there nearly took her breath away.

A magnificent Princess-cut diamond floated elegantly atop the peak of a platinum band. Down the sides of the band from the large diamond cascaded smaller Princess-cut diamonds in pairs, two pairs on each side. The smaller diamonds were sunken into the setting, their square shape visible from the side of the ring.

Hermione stared at the ring in awe. She had never seen anything so breathtakingly magnificent before in her life. And she certainly had never worn anything like it before.

"Wow!" Her voice came out as a shaky whisper as the ring continued to mesmerize her.

"The center stone is two carats. Four point five-six total carat weight. The finest cut and clarity Finland could offer," Draco remarked sitting back down next to her, their bags in hand.

She looked at him disbelievingly. "It's…it's real?"

"Of course it's real," he defended, looking affronted. At her unblinking stare he continued. "I got it at the Muggle jewelry shop next to Marimekko."

"Muggle?" she asked steadying her voice.

"Yes. Muggle diamonds are more valuable. Do you know why?"

She shook her head in response.

"Because there's no magic involved in making them. It takes thousands of years for one diamond to form into its perfect brilliance," he answered, his eyes glinting in the light beyond the train window.

"But, why?" she questioned slowly. "I mean, why buy a real ring?"

He looked at her thoughtfully for a moment and then explained, "Well, you're supposed to be my wife, and I wouldn't buy just any ring for my wife. She'd deserve only the best."

Her disbelieving look faded as she noted the sincerity in his eyes. For a moment she marveled at how lucky the woman who captured his heart would be. Then she found herself hoping that whoever he found would be worthy of him.

Pulling herself away from her musings she asked, "And your ring?"

He set down the bag in his left hand and brought his hand between them, his palm facing  
himself. It was a plain, simple platinum band sitting snuggly on his ring finger. Just then the brakes of the train squealed and the train began slowing until it stopped at the outside platform servicing Mäntyharju.

Draco picked up his bag again and stood. "Well," he said as Hermione rose to stand next to him, "Here goes nothing."

Only a few people descended from the sparsely occupied train, Hermione and Draco included. As they stepped onto the concrete paved platform they felt as though they had just stepped into a different world. Beyond the platform was dirt. A small footpath led from the platform past a small building used as the train station to a dirt covered parking area. Hermione looked down the single lane road and saw the flatness of the country. No mountains. Not even a remarkably large hill to speak of. Just flat countryside extending for what, for all intents and purposes, could have been forever. It was still beautiful—lush green trees waving in the distance amidst tall thriving brush—just flat.

As she absorbed her surroundings, Draco led the way to a small van serving as a taxi. A tall, thin man stood at the back of the van, looking expectantly at them.

"Thomas?" he asked hopefully.

"Yes," Draco replied.

"Hyvä," the man said opening the back of the van. He took the bags from Draco and deposited them inside, securely closing the hatch afterwards. As he walked back around towards them he smiled and motioned for them to get inside the van. He then slid the van's side door closed and got in the driver's seat.

After a few minutes of driving in silence Draco leaned toward Hermione and said in a whisper, "I don't think people know as much English here as they do in Helsinki."

"Hmm," Hermione intoned in hushed agreement. Then she leaned toward the front of the van and asked, "Puhutko sinä englantia?"

"En puhu," he said shaking his head. "Puhutko sinä suomea?" he asked, his face brightening a bit?

"En puhu," she answered regretfully. She sat back in her seat and looked at Draco who was gaping at her as though she had just sprouted turnips out of her ears.

"Did you just speak in Finnish?" he asked almost hesitantly.

"Yes," she replied, a small smile curving her lips. "I read a Finnish lesson book I bought in Helsinki and learned a few phrases I thought I may need."

"Oh," Draco said sounding relieved. "For a second I thought I was on the bad end of a language confounding charm. So what did you say to him?"

"Well," Hermione began, "I asked him if he spoke English. He said no, and then he asked me if I spoke Finnish, to which I answered no."

"Oh," he said, a slight smirk forming. "So I was right to start with." Hermione just rolled her eyes at him and chose to look out the window at the passing scenery.

After about twenty minutes the van turned onto a narrow dirt road winding through an area thick with trees and brush. Five minutes later a small house came into view. Hermione looked at it as they passed it. Half a kilometre later the van came to a stop. The driver got out and opened the hatch while Hermione and Draco stepped out into this new foreign world.

As the driver handed the bags to Draco, Hermione fished out some Muggle money from her pocket and handed it to the driver.

"Kiitos. Kiitos," he said with a nod and a smile, and then retreated back to the van.

Hermione looked at Draco with a resolute sigh and asked, "Ready, dear?"

He smirked winningly at her and winked, responding, "Bring it on, sweetheart."

Draco followed Hermione towards the roof of a house barely peeking above the dirt dead-end road. Long wooden planks set into the declining slope of earth served as stairs, leading them down to the cabin. As they rounded the bottom of the steps they followed the short path to the right and found themselves in a beautiful, isolated oasis of forest.

The main cabin stood on their right, wide wooden stairs leading up to a spacious porch running the length of the cabin, a large window opening up to the room inside. Just in front of the cabin sat a three person swing nestled up to the bushes just below the sloping earth from which they had just descended. Directly in front of them was a rugged rectangular table with benches on either side. To the left of the table was another cabin facing away from them, but it was a great deal smaller than the main cabin. The rest of the area was covered with trees and foliage.

As Hermione looked around she noticed that they seemed to be on a peninsula of sorts, for the lake surrounded them on three sides. As she looked beyond the table she saw a small dock extending to the water. She smiled as she imagined sitting on the dock and relaxing amidst this beautiful haven.

Just then a familiar voice broke through the placid stillness. "Dean. Hannah. I'm glad you made it!" They turned to see Marja hurrying down the steps to them, a happy smile on her face. "Terve! I see the taxi driver got you to the right place. My father and I were up at the other cabin, the one you passed just before this one. My cousin, my father's niece, lives in America with her family and they are here on holiday staying in that cabin. I am going to apologize to you in advance for the cramped accommodations, but I doubt that you two newlyweds will mind." Her eyes twinkled at them as she smiled.

"This cabin," she said pointing to the large one, "is where my father and I are staying, but," she added, leading them to the front of the smaller cabin, "the sauna house is available, and quite cozy, I might add."

Hermione had to choke back a laugh as she remembered the time when Draco had made the word "cozy" sound like an expletive. She looked at him, waiting for him to react, but he just looked at Marja with rapt attention.

As they came to the front of the sauna house they saw the same wide stairs as the main cabin running the length of the structure and up to a small porch. Two doors stood on either side of the center of the house. Marja opened the door on the right and stepped back to let them look into the room. It was infinitesimally small. It appeared to be no larger than a broom closet, but somehow held within it a full size bed, a rather thin end table, and a few shallow shelves filled with books and magazines. A small window faced the lake just above the bed on the right side. A small old mirror hung above the end table on the left wall just opposite the bed. Marja was right. It definitely was cozy. And if she and Draco truly had been newlyweds Hermione agreed that they really wouldn't have minded. _Well, it could be worse_, she thought.

"This door," Marja said referring to the door on the left of their room, "is the sauna. The kitchen is in the large cabin, and I will make all of your meals this weekend." She held up her hand as Hermione began to protest and said, "Please, I insist. Now, we have no electricity, but it really doesn't get dark here yet, so that shouldn't be a problem. The outhouse is the small shack about ten metres behind the sauna house."

Hermione blinked her eyes in slight surprise wondering if she had heard correctly. "Outhouse?" she asked as composedly as she could.

"Yes," Marja replied as though it were the most natural thing in the world. "We don't have  
running water here, so we have the outhouse. And in lieu of a shower we use the sauna and the lake."

"Oh," Hermione squeaked, trying her best not to look like she had just been backhanded by Professor Dumbledore. She looked at Draco and saw him looking calmly and attentively at Marja. He looked as though he didn't hear the outhouse bit, although Hermione thought he did look a tad bit paler than usual.

"Well," Marja said happily, "I'll let you two get settled in. I'll have dinner ready in 40 minutes." That said, she left the two of them in their postage stamp sized room.

Hermione slowly closed the door and joined Draco, who had sat down on the side of the bed. They stared at the wall in shocked silence for several minutes, allowing the enormity of their situation to sink in. Finally, Hermione broke the silence.

"Did you…?"

"No. Did you have any…?"

"No. Did she really say…?"

"Outhouse?"

They turned to look at each other, and the look of utter bewilderment touched by horror on each other's faces sent them into much needed tension releasing laughter. Hermione was surprised to hear Draco laugh. She had heard him laugh cruelly before in school, but never happily. She found that she liked the sound of it. Draco doubled over, holding a stitch in his side, and Hermione wiped hysterically funny tears from her eyes. Finally, the laughter subsided and they sat there once again staring at the wall.

"Well," Draco started, looking completely composed, except for laughter's flush still staining his cheeks, "This is a bit more than we bargained for."

Hermione nodded, and then said in an undertone, "Outhouse."

Fresh outbursts of laughter sailed through their closet-turned-honeymoon suite as they fell back side by side against the bed.

After ten minutes of laughter followed by silent staring followed by more laughter Hermione and Draco composed themselves and spilled out of their miniscule room. They descended the steps of the sauna house and walked slowly towards the main cabin.

Hermione took in a deep, cleansing breath and smiled at the wonder of nature around her. "It is absolutely beautiful here. And so peaceful."

"Hmm," Draco intoned as he gracefully flopped onto the swing in front of the cabin.

"What?" Hermione asked, sitting next to him on the swing. "You don't agree?"

Draco turned his head slightly to look at her, then turned back to the view of the lake. "Yes, I do agree. Quite beautiful."

Just then the door to the main cabin opened and Marja stepped out onto the porch. "Oh," she said with a hint of surprise in her voice.

Hermione looked up at the older woman and stood. "Marja, may I help you with anything?"

Marja smiled and said, "Why, of course." She picked up a bucket from a small table on the porch as Hermione ascended the cabin stairs. "I'm surprised to see you out so quickly. I expected you to be at least another fifteen minutes." Her smiling eyes indicated that she mistook Hermione's flush of laughter to be the flush of something else. As Hermione's eyes widened in understanding her flush only deepened.

Marja laughed and said, "Don't worry, dear. This is your honeymoon, after all."

Hermione glanced unwittingly at Draco, who was smirking tauntingly at her. She shot him a death glare, to which he returned a quick wink, before she turned back to Marja.

"We could use some more water, if you wouldn't mind," Marja said handing Hermione the  
bucket.

"I'd be more than happy to," Hermione responded.

"Very good. Just over half a kilometre up the road is a well. The road curves to the left just past our other cabin. The well is off the road to the left. It's an easy walk, and wild strawberry plants line the way there. Just don't fill up on them. Dinner should be ready by the time you get back." Marja gave Hermione a final smile before fixing her attention on Draco.

"Oh, Dean, dear, would you mind getting a fire started in the pit by the lake?"

"Not at all," Draco answered as he casually stood up.

As Hermione passed by Draco on her way up to the road she shot him a furtive look and  
whispered, "Remember, no magic."

"Oh, come off it," he said flippantly. "The sensors won't go off over a tiny little spark."

"They might," she countered. "You know this place must be crawling with Ministry officials  
looking for the slightest clue that will lead back to the Dark Mark."

"Don't be so tense, Granger. Just go fetch the water like a good girl and let me handle the fire starting." He looked momentarily over Hermione's shoulder before leaning down and placing a quick kiss on her cheek.

At Hermione's questioning look he explained, "Marja's watching. Sweetheart," he added in a drawl. Hermione rolled her eyes and began walking up the wooden planks in the sloping earth that led up to the road.

Once on the road Hermione's eyes shone with delight as she appreciatively surveyed the foliage edging the road. Marja had been right. Small green leafed plants bearing tiny bright red strawberries littered the way before her. She knelt down by one particularly fruitful plant and plucked a juicy gem from its vine. Visions of pure euphoria filled her mind as she savored the incredible sweetness of the wild strawberry grown purely for her pleasure. In a minute's time she realized that she had picked the plant clean. She reluctantly heeded Marja's admonition to not fill up on strawberries and heaved a sigh as she walked purposefully toward the well.

As she rounded the curve in the road to the left she saw the well in a small clearing. She made her way through the calf-high grass and placed the bucket on the edge of the well. She began turning the wheel crank and listened as the bucket slowly mounted the well's opening. Peering into the well Hermione saw the bucket poking through the darkness and edging into the light. Hermione reached her hand into the well to take the bucket. Just as her hand touched the handle she felt herself being jerked backwards. Two strong hands shot around her as if out of nowhere, one clamped over her mouth and the other wrapped securely around her waist. For a moment she was stunned into immobility, allowing herself to be dragged backward by her captor. When her brain synapses finally awoke from their shocked stupor she began kicking and hitting, furiously trying to fend off her attacker. The arms around her only tightened as a hushed "Shh" sounded in her ear.

In a final attempt of desperation she flung herself backward into her attacker with all of her strength. The attacker was taken by surprise, as Hermione had hoped, and she felt them falling back. Two nearly simultaneous thuds beat noiselessly into the earth as the attacker fell, Hermione landing on top of him. Immediately the arms around her loosened as the distinct "oof" of air being let out resounded in her ear. Hermione wasted no time in jumping up from the ground. Just as she was about to sprint away back towards the road she heard a familiar voice utter, "Hermione."

She whirled back to the sound of the voice and stared in complete confusion and befuddlement at the sight before her. Kneeling on the ground, hands clutching his winded chest, was the man who's arms she'd wanted to have around her for quite some time, though in a much different way than they had just been.

"Hermione," he said again. "Wait."

Hermione stood staring for a moment longer before shaking off her second stupor and lunging forward at him.

"Harry? Harry!" She flung herself at him again, and for the second time in thirty seconds, Harry once again found himself thrown back to the ground with Hermione on top of him. "Oh, Harry, I was so worried about you! I haven't heard from you since you left. I've been imagining horrible things, and I've been just beside myself with not knowing. You don't know how it's been with the uncertainty and the worry." Hermione clutched at his arms and shoulders, burying her face in his neck, as she babbled her fear and relief to him. Then, as quickly as turning a light switch from on to off, she pushed herself up to a straddling position and began pounding on his chest with her fists.

"And WHAT in the name of Merlin do you think you were doing? Trying to scare me to death like that. Harry Potter, you idiot! I would expect something stupid like this from Ron, but not you! Don't you ever do that to me again!"

With a great deal of concentrated effort Harry was able to grab hold of her wrists and spare himself from her wild pounding. "Hermione…Hermione!"

As he shook her wrists and spoke her name she stopped her crazed tirade and looked at his face, her eyes glistening with unshed tears of worry and frustration.

"Oh, Hermione," he said reaching a hand up to touch her cheek. "I'm so sorry." As he spoke his heartfelt apology she choked on a stifled sob. Harry immediately reached up to her and pulled her down to him, his hand softly stroking her hair as she shook against his chest. "Shh," he murmured soothingly. "It's okay. I'm here. I'm sorry I scared you. It was a stupid thing to do. Please don't cry, Hermione."

As he continued to lightly touch her hair her sobbing began to subside. She took in short, broken breaths and closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of Harry beneath her. "Oh, Harry," she said. "I'm so glad you're okay. I've missed you."

"I've missed you, too," he confessed.

They lay on the ground enjoying the soft feel of one another for a moment longer. Then  
Hermione pushed her chest up from his and rested her palms on either side of him.

"So," she began, her eyes boring deeply into his, "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," he said. His eyes flickered almost imperceptibly to her lips and she very suddenly became aware of the intimate position they shared. She very slowly and deliberately slid off of his body and turned to a sitting position next to him. She held back a sly grin as he softly inhaled at the feel of her body sliding suggestively against his.

"Well, I've been here since I left England," he said almost shakily. He moved into a sitting  
position next to her and pulled his legs up, his arms resting lightly on his knees. Then he turned his head to get a good view of her and asked, "So, what are you doing here? I thought your assignment was in Helsinki."

"Oh, um, yes, it is," she said a bit lamely. He lifted an eyebrow at her as a sign to continue, and she felt torn between telling him everything and concealing her charade. "A very nice lady and her father from the marketplace said this was the place to get a real taste of Finland, so here I am." She hoped this explanation would suffice for now.

"She was right." Harry gave Hermione a smile and then turned to look at the forest around them. "This is like Old World Finland out here. So simple and uncomplicated. For the most part." He turned back to Hermione and flashed her a grin.

Hermione looked at him with a happy smile and laid her left hand on his arm. "I'm so glad that you're right here next to me. I am so incredibly relieved."

"Me, too," Harry responded, resting his hand on top of hers. His eyes flashed in mild confusion as his fingers touched the ring on her hand. Hermione tried to quickly pull her hand back, but Harry's seeker reflexes held her hand steady in his. He turned his eyes and both hands to the gleaming, shining band of platinum and diamonds perched prominently on her ring finger. His questioning eyes sought out hers and he asked guardedly, "Is there something you would like to tell me?"

Her smile faded to panic as she racked her brain for a reasonable explanation for why she was wearing an incredibly expensive, incredibly blatant wedding ring.

"Um, well…I…oh…" As hard as she tried to form coherent words, nothing would come.

Harry looked at her with unmasked confusion and calmly ventured, "Is this a…wedding ring?"

"In essence, yes," she warily responded, "but in practice, no."

Harry turned his body until he was facing her, his hold on her hand never loosening. "Explain," he patiently commanded.

Knowing she was stuck, Hermione sighed deeply and began her explanation, from the Dark Mark charm at the tori to their chance meeting at the well. When she concluded her story she noted Harry's brow furrowed in concern.

"You know what you're doing is stupid, don't you, Hermione?" He lightly stroked her hand, his eyes remaining fixed on her.

"Yes," she whispered guiltily. "But it seemed like the Finnish Ministry wasn't doing enough  
about it."

At this Harry sighed. "I know what you mean," he acquiesced. "We've been here for nearly three weeks and we haven't gotten much cooperation from them, except, 'We're working on it.' I expected we would have some leads by now, but nothing. We're as lost as the first day we got here. It is a bit disappointing."

"Harry," she ventured as she remembered a conversation she and Draco had had a few days earlier, "Do you think the Ministry here could be corrupt? I mean, do you think someone has been bought off?"

He considered her words for a moment before answering. "Actually, Hermione, we have been thinking that for some time now. There is no reason why the perpetrator hasn't been caught yet, unless someone is covering his tracks for him, or deliberately steering us the wrong way. But who is it? We just can't pinpoint anyone, or a motive."

"So, someone in the Finnish Ministry is corrupt, you have no leads to go on, and you're stuck here until something is figured out." Hermione looked at him with a slight frown.

"In a nutshell," Harry agreed shaking his head. "Not so great, is it?"

"Harry," Hermione said, a lightness in her voice, "the family we are staying with thinks we are Muggles. Draco and I can find out all we can from them, since the man was the one to actually see the Dark Mark, and then we can report back to you."

Harry shifted a suspicious glance at her. "Hermione, it's dangerous here. Suspected Death Eaters are lurking around here. This isn't one of our adventures back at Hogwarts. Something, anything, could happen to you. I couldn't bear it if it did."

Hermione squeezed Harry's hand and gave him a reassuring smile. "I'm always safe when you're around," she placated.

"But I can't be here to protect you all the time." He looked pleadingly at her, hoping she would relent and leave the danger to him.

"Despite your over inflated estimation of your own protecting powers, I do not need you to keep watch over me every minute of every hour. I am fully capable of holding my own, or have you forgotten my usefulness in helping you battle evil over the last seven years?" Her words were as sharp as finely sharpened steel, but her eyes gushed sweetness and her mouth smiled demurely.

Harry sighed in defeat and adjusted himself so his arm was wrapped soundly around her  
shoulders. "You are a stubborn witch, you know?"

"Yes," she said as she leaned her head against his.

"I don't suppose there's any way to convince you to forget this whole idea and just leave, is there?"

"No."

"I didn't think so." Harry breathed deeply and sighed against her. "You smell like strawberries," he noticed.

"I picked some strawberries on the way to the well. Oh, the well!" Hermione's head shot up as she realized Marja and Draco were waiting for her to return with the water. "I have to get back!" She stood abruptly, and Harry followed.

"Here, let me help you," he offered.

Hermione and Harry jogged quickly back to the well, and Harry helped her fill the bucket with water.

"Since you're relentlessly stubborn when you set your mind to something, I suppose we should meet back here tomorrow and you can fill me in on what you've found out." Hermione nodded as Harry put the well bucket back down on the well's edge. "And, I can't believe I'm saying this," he shook his head in annoyance, "but stay close to Malfoy."

Hermione stared at him as though waiting for the punch line. "Really?" she asked after a  
moment.

"Really," Harry sighed. "I may not like him, but he has a working knowledge of the Dark Arts, and he can keep you safe. Not that you need it," he added quickly. "Oh, and don't do the sauna with him."

"Why?"

"Just trust me." He reached out and gathered her into a strong, comforting hug.

Her arms flew around him and she held him tight. "Be careful, Harry." She pulled away from him slightly and placed a kiss on his cheek.

"You, too." Harry looked protectively into her eyes and placed his fingers against her cheek. In an instant so quick that Hermione wondered if it had really happened, Harry brushed his lips lightly against hers.

Hermione stood rooted to the ground, her eyes blinking in astonishment.

"Tomorrow, same time," he gruffly whispered, taking her in for one last hug before releasing her.

She nodded and turned to pick up her bucket from the well. When she turned back to face him he was gone. She stared at the place he had just been and touched her lips with her fingers. _Harry just kissed me. I think._ She smiled giddily and turned back to the road, rushing to return the full water bucket, her excitement permeating every last fracture of her insides with fluttering.


	9. Chapter 9

_Note: Please excuse the excessive wait for this update. It was uncalled for. I'll try to be better in future._

o-o-o-o-o

Hurriedly, Hermione trotted down the wooden planks to the forest oasis of the cabin by the lake. As she neared the cabin's steps she brought her hand up to smooth down the hair that had been blown around by her rapid sprint from the well. Her fingers contacted with dried leaves and twigs that had undoubtedly found their way into her coiffure as she lay on the forest floor with Harry. She quickly tried to remove as much of nature's adornment as she could, fearing that without a mirror she was fighting a losing battle.

"Ah, there you are. We were beginning to think you had gotten lost."

Hermione's futile fingering of her hair was interrupted by Marja's voice wafting from the door of the cabin. Marja then appeared in the doorway, followed by Draco holding a plate of cheese and bread.

"You're just in time," Marja remarked, walking to Hermione and leading her to the table at the foot of the cabin. "You stopped to sample the strawberries, didn't you?" Marja's eyes twinkled.

"Oh, um, yes, actually I did," Hermione agreed, allowing Marja to supply the reason for her tardiness.

"Strawberries, hmm?" Draco questioned, plucking a large twig from her tangled hair.

"Oh, well," Hermione began, thinking quickly, "I also tripped on a tree root." She again began fumbling with the missed leaves in her hair.

"Allow me," Draco said as he moved in closer to assist in the de-leafing. In a lowered voice he commented, "You seem a bit flushed for taking just an innocent tumble over a tree root." His breath fanned softly against her ear and Hermione couldn't hold back a slight shiver.

"I ran to get back here," she quietly explained, closing her eyes against the prickling sensation running over her scalp from the slight tugging of Draco's fingers against her hair. She shuddered in contented approval. Draco continued removing leaves and twigs until he finally reached the last one. Hermione opened her eyes as his fingers made one final sweep through her full hair. She looked at him with a dreamy expression of relaxation, drowsiness apparent in her eyes.

"Like that?" he asked with a half smile, half smirk. "Relaxing, isn't it?"

"Mmm," Hermione agreed. Then she took in a deep breath and shook off the effects of her dreamland. Draco was still watching her, his eyes holding hers in a moment of contentment. A bit reluctantly she broke the gaze and turned to look at the table.

The old wooden table sat laden under plates brimming with sliced cheeses and breads, varied vegetables, and steaming sausages. The tempting aroma wafting off the plates mingling with the fresh crispness of the outdoor air accosted Hermione's senses and her stomach began to tighten in anticipation of the awaiting meal.

"Well," began Marja as she and her father approached the table, "let us begin." Hermione and Draco slid onto a bench on one side of the table while Marja took the chair at the foot and her father took the chair at the head.

Conversation halted as only the clinking of utensils on ceramic shot through the prevailing silence. As the serving plates began to lighten under their decreasing loads Draco decided to spark a conversation.

"So, how did your father come about the charm making business?" he directed to Marja.

Marja looked up from her plate with a smile. "Oh, Father's been making charms since he was a young man. He and his partner, a friend from his youth, started their own business. They would schedule showings at fairs and other large gatherings. They ended up traveling throughout Europe showing their charms. My father and mother actually met at one of those showings."

"Oh really?" Hermione chimed in, anxious for a romantic retelling of Marja's parents' first meeting.

Marja smiled dreamily as she recounted the story she had no doubt asked to hear countless times as a child. "Father and his partner had a showing near London. Dozens of other entrepreneurs showcased their wares that day, too. Just as they were about to pack it in for the day a beautiful girl with long platinum hair approached their table. Father was smitten immediately. Apparently she was, too, for the next day she returned to his table. After the showing that second day they walked around the town together until it was quite late. Father spoke very little English, but that didn't seem to be enough of a deterrent. Two months later they were married."

Hermione's eyes were fixed on Marja as she drank in the tale. "How wonderfully romantic," she proclaimed on a sigh.

"Yes, indeed," Marja said, a misty reminiscence clear in her countenance. "So, how did you two meet?"

"Oh." Hermione startled momentarily at the direct question. She shifted slightly and turned to look at Draco.

"At school," Draco supplied composedly.

"Ah, school sweethearts."

Draco quickly hid a scoff under a cough. "Actually, no. We, er, disliked each other quite immensely in school."

"Is that so?" Marja asked.

"Yes. She was a rather bossy know-it-all," he taunted.

"Well," Hermione defended, "he was an arrogant bully."

Marja looked between the two, humored by the look of indignation juxtaposed against a teasing smirk. "Well," laughed Marja, "opposites attract."

"So they say." Draco took Hermione's hand in his and brushed his lips gently across the back of her hand, winking as he did so.

Hermione's breath caught in her chest, the indignation dissolving immediately. She knew that Draco was just playing up their relationship for Marja's benefit, but she was flustered by the tenderness he demonstrated in his actions. One moment he was insulting her, and the next he was melting her resolve with one well placed touch. He was an awfully enigmatic piece of work, and she often found herself caught between wanting to slap him and wanting to melt into him. Undecided for the moment, she decided to just stare at him.

As she looked bemusedly at Draco, Marja's father spoke something in Finnish. Hermione and Draco both turned to him and then to Marja for interpretation.

Marja nodded at her father and then said to them, "My father has had a long day and wants to turn in for the evening. I'm sure you have had a long day, too. Please don't hesitate to get me if you need anything."

"Thank you, Draco replied, nodding politely to Marja's father. "Perhaps tomorrow we can spend more time talking with you."

"My father would like that," Marja responded. "He said you remind him of a nephew of his. I know he would like to talk with you more."

"I will be more than happy to oblige." Draco then rose and began stacking the dinner plates. He and Hermione carried them up to the table on the porch and bid their hosts good night.

"So," Draco said as he and Hermione walked to the wooden dock, "are you going to tell me about that little tumble of yours, or are you going to make me guess?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, trying not to sound nervous. "I told you. I tripped over a tree root."

Draco leaned on his elbows against the dock's rail and threaded his fingers together, looking out at the calm water. "Granger," he started, "you may have graduated ahead of me, but that doesn't make me an idiot. The look on your face did not say, 'I just tripped over a tree root,' it said, 'I'm so happy about something I can't stop smiling.'" He then turned his eyes to hers. "Spill. You know I'll find out anyway."

Hermione gave him a withering look and leaned against the rail next to him. "Okay. I saw Harry."

Draco's eyes flashed with irritation, and he made no effort to hide it. "Potter? What was Potter doing here? And what were you doing taking a tumble with him when the people who think you're my wife were only half a kilometre away?" His voice resounded with a threatening calm.

Hermione turned quickly to face him, her mouth slightly opened in indignant surprise. "What?" she asked incredulously. "I was not 'taking a tumble' with Harry, as you so tactlessly accused. Honestly, Malfoy, sometimes you really are an idiot."

"Really?" he countered. "Well, what am I supposed to think? You're gone twice as long as you should be, and then you come back looking like you've been writhing around on the ground, afterglow flushed across your face. And then you tell me you were with Potter. Just what exactly am I supposed to think?"

Hermione's face burned with anger, her fingers clenching and unclenching unconsciously. "You have a lot of nerve, Malfoy," she spat from between clenched teeth. "How dare you even suggest such a thing! You may be used to loose morals, but I am not that kind of girl. Harry startled me and I fell. Plain and simple."

"Okay," Draco began calmly, clearly unconvinced, "so, if it is true, what took you so long?"

"If? If? It is true, you daft git! And it took so long because we both had questions about what the other was doing here."

"And you told him, of course."

"Yes, I did," Hermione admitted boldly. Draco scoffed loudly at her admission, eliciting a frown from her. "I trust Harry with my life. Besides, we can use our information together to get this figured out sooner."

"Oh, that's right," Draco said in mock admiration. "Harry Potter, Great Defender of the Universe, Righter of All Wrongs and Destroyer of All Evils. Yes, let's team up with boy wonder and let him save the world again. His head's not quite big enough yet, is it?"

"Come off it, Malfoy. You're just jealous. You always have been."

"Jealous? Of Potter? Think again, Granger. There is nothing to envy in that brain addled parentless scar head."

"Oh, really? Well at least Harry has friends."

The air bristled with silent tension. Hermione gasped at the realization of her cruelty. "I…I'm sorry. I didn't mean that." She tried to apologize, but Draco held up his hand to stop her feeble mumblings. His face was once again unreadable, and he turned away from her, briskly walking toward the other side of the island peninsula.

Hermione gaped at his retreating figure, horrified at her scathing comment. She knew she had hit a raw nerve, and she felt penitently guilty. Malfoy would never have taken her bait if it had been just the silly rantings of a worked up girl. But he had taken it, and Hermione hung her head in shame as she realized that it was true. Draco Malfoy had no friends. And she had just mercilessly thrown it in his face.

What kind of awful person was she? She hit her fist against the rail and sank down to the dock, hugging her knees against her chest. As she rested her head against her knees the silent tears streamed hot against her cheeks, the regret of her callousness stinging her heart. She rocked gently forward and back until her tears of self-loathing turned into tears for the boy who stood alone against the world. In her mind she could see him as he stood outside the Leaky Cauldron the day she had visited Malfoy Manor. His tall, strong frame leaning stoically against the wall. His blond hair lifting gently away from his head. His dark cloak billowing gallantly in the wind. His face stony and unreadable. The picture of a man who had no one in his life, who had no one to turn to but himself. And after weeks of building a pseudo-friendship with him, she had just relegated him back to the solitary confinement of his lonely existence.

Hermione stared out across the still lake to the thick trees on the other side, her mind numbly blank. After an indeterminable amount of time, she rose from the dock and slowly forged the path back to the sauna house. She took a deep breath and turned the door handle, entering the tiny empty room. Fully clothed, she crawled across the bed and curled up near the wall. Twilight filtered through the drapes, and she closed her eyes against the brightness of the night sky. She took her pillow and hugged it tightly against her chest, her face buried in its softness.

Since Finland didn't get dark in the summer Hermione had no idea what time it was. It had been a while since Draco had left, and she was worried about him. She wanted to go look for him, but knew that that would be the worst thing she could do. So she continued to lay on the bed, her arms wrapped firmly around her pillow, wishing that the softness she held in her arms were someone who could hold her in return and tell her it was going to be okay.

As she lay quietly her breathing began to even, and soon she drifted into a dreamless sleep, still holding the pillow securely to her.

o-o-o-o-o

Faint light seeped through the drapes and glittered across Hermione's chestnut locks. She breathed in the faint scent of wood and fresh linen, and hugged the pillow still clutched in her arms. She sighed in comfortable relaxation and snuggled deeper into her pillow before remembering the circumstances that landed her with a death grip on her pillow. Draco. Hermione groaned and rolled over to her other side, dragging her companion pillow with her.

What had she done? What had she been thinking? Why did she always allow herself to get so riled up to the point of saying horrible things that she regretted beyond measure? The look on his face had cut into her heart, and the blended images of betrayal, hurt, and concurrence wouldn't leave her mind. She threw the pillow across the bed and sat up, any hope of returning to a peaceful slumber doused by her overwhelming regret.

She splayed the drapes with her fingers and noticed the sky was just as bright as when she had fallen asleep. How long had she been sleeping? An hour? Two? Twenty minutes? And how long had Draco been gone? _Blast this perpetual day nonsense_, she thought as she rolled off the bed and stood, still fully clothed from the day before.

She knew that the last thing he wanted was to see her, but she was worried about him. Although she had been getting to know him fairly well, she still couldn't be sure that he wouldn't do something foolish. Determined to find him and apologize for her idiocy, she opened the door to begin her quest.

As she crossed the threshold she looked up and immediately ceased her movement. There before her, his back to her, gazing pensively across the crystal lake, sat Draco Malfoy. His back curved forward slightly as he rested his elbows on his knees. His usually perfect hair was ruffled and unkempt, as though his hands had vainly attempted to brush her harsh comments directly from his mind. He sat very still, the faint rising and falling of his shoulders the only indication of living existence.

Hermione looked at the man before her, broken, hollow, and very much alone, and her heart went out to him. As though drawn to him, like a painter to an unblemished canvas, she quietly bridged the distance to him and sat next to him on the porch steps. They sat there side by side, neither of them looking at the other, for several minutes. After Hermione's heart felt like it would burst with unspoken regret, she broke the silence.

"Sometimes, when I'm alone, I feel like I'm the only person who exists. The trees were made for me, the birds sing for my enjoyment, the world exists only for my pleasure. Then I realize that the shade from the trees, the melody of the birds, the beauty of the earth means nothing to me if I don't have someone to share it with." She paused momentarily as she folded her hands together and placed them in her lap.

"Sometimes I get carried away and forget that I am nothing and that nothing matters without those I care about beside me. What I said today, what I implied, was wrong. It was stupid and cruel and indescribably horrible. But, more than that, it wasn't true." She swallowed and closed her eyes briefly before continuing.

"Despite the inexcusably horrific things I said to you, I am your friend. And I hope it's not too late to rectify this friendship." She slowly yet deliberately reached her hand out and threaded it under his arm until she grasped his hand in her own. Surprisingly he didn't pull away, but allowed his hand to loosely lay in hers. Emboldened by his apathetic acceptance of her, she gently squeezed his hand.

They continued to stare out at the reflective trees mirrored in the glassy water of the lake. A solitary bird skated smoothly across the water, its reflection jetting across the inverted forest in a streak of black. The lake side retreat was silent, the occasional rustle of the breeze through the branches providing the only rift in the silence. Hermione sighed and absorbed the beauty of her surroundings. A slight pressure around her hand caused her to break from her reverie and look at her hand. Draco's hand had tightened around hers. She smiled and squeezed again.

"Draco?" He continued to look at the lake, but did not decrease his hand's pressure. Hermione looked at him in profile, his strong features gentle and relaxed. "I'm sorry." Hermione continued looking at him, her hand remaining firmly in his.

Then, very quietly, as though wafting in the breeze, he spoke. "Is this how I made you feel? In the past?"

Hermione lowered her eyes to their clasped hands. "Sometimes," she admitted.

He finally turned his head to look at her, and she raised her eyes to meet his. "I'm sorry." His face was sincere, and Hermione felt a wave of relief wash over her.

"I know," she whispered.

After a few more moments of the trees rustling in the wind, Hermione tugged slightly on Draco's hand. "Come on," she urged, as they both rose to their feet. "You must be exhausted." Silently she led him back into their small room. Hermione climbed over to her side of the bed and Draco prostrated himself on his side. He stared up at the ceiling, and Hermione lay on her side facing him. Unconsciously, she reached her hand out and brushed a stray hair out of his eyes and back through the rest of his hair. His eyelids fluttered, and within moments his eyes were closed.

Hermione continued stroking his silky blond hair and watched as his breathing evened. A few minutes later she carefully pulled her hand away and tucked it under her pillow. She looked at the man next to her and smiled. He may continue to walk the lonely path, but he would never again be without a friend.

o-o-o-o-o

The stillness of the dimmed sauna house slowly awakened as the twilight gave way to the dawning of a new morning. While streaming sunlight filtering through the trees inched its way past the edges of the drapes, the tiny room's inhabitants lay silent, the presence of a new day not yet crossing over the perimeter of their consciousness. Daybreak made no haste in coaxing the sleep intoxicated pair from their dreamy comfort. Slowly, the sounds of nature began to accompany the persistence of the brightly prodding sun in its attempt to commence the day. Gentle ripples of water quietly lapped against the sloping shore. A mother duck patiently beckoned her young to her from across the lake. The muted creaking of a dock in the distance floated across the morning breeze.

Happily giving in to nature's insistence, Hermione stretched and sighed, snuggling deeper into her pillow. Not finding the comfort she expected, a small frown creased her forehead. Instead of the soft fluffiness of before, her head felt firm unevenness. She brought her hand up to smooth out the uneven mass and then froze as her fingers alighted upon a vaguely familiar pectoral muscle. Her eyes immediately flew open, her vision focusing on the rippled chest of Draco Malfoy.

As her brain focused along with her eyes, she realized that she had somehow snuggled into Draco's chest, her head now resting on his shoulder. His arm draped casually but protectively around her body and rested loosely at her waist. She had no idea how she naturally gravitated towards the warmth of her bed fellows, but she was grateful that she woke up before Draco did.

Slowly she lifted her hand and head from his chest and began to rise from the bed, but before she could end body contact, his arm, which had previously lain limply at her waist, tightened over her hip and pulled her back down to his chest. She lay still for a moment, thinking that perhaps his reflexes had momentarily awakened at her movement.

She tried again to extract herself from his grip but his hold remained firm on her. She crinkled her nose for a second and then ventured a whisper. "Draco?"

The sleeping form next to her lay still.

"Draco?" she tried again.

"Hmm," he grunted, his eyes remaining shut and his body still unmoving.

"Let me up," she said gently, waiting for his arm to release its hold on her.

"Mm-mm," he refused, his grip not lessening.

"What?" she queried, realizing that he was holding on to her on purpose. "Draco!"

Even with her exasperated use of his name he didn't relinquish his grip. "You're warm," was his only response.

"Use a blanket," she offered impatiently.

"Mm-mm."

She was about to hit her hand against his chest when a very funny, but rather cute, image burst into her mind. She laughed softly as she felt him continue to hold on to her. "I get it," she began, resisting the urge to pinch his cheek. "You're the kind of guy who still has to sleep with a teddy bear, aren't you?" Her laughter grew as she envisioned Draco snuggled up to a life-sized teddy bear, his arm thrown securely around it.

After a few seconds of her increased laughter he flung his restraining arm off of her hip and onto the bed. "Okay, now you've ruined it," he complained, his eyes fluttering open in the morning light.

"So," Hermione said in a teasing voice, propping herself up on her elbow, "you do still sleep with a teddy bear."

"I do not," he denied, the pouting clear in his voice.

"Oh, no need to get moody, Malfoy," she placated.

"Malfoy?" he asked, turning his head to look at her. "A bit formal to call the guy you just slept with, isn't it?"

Hermione's jaw dropped slightly, and then she snorted out, "Ha! You wish."

"Well, technically speaking, we did sleep together last night," he stated as factually as commenting on the color of the sky.

"Only in the most literally platonic sense of the term," she defended.

He simply shrugged his shoulders. "Fact remains."

"Well, if that's the case," she began haughtily, "then I've slept with lots of guys before."

Draco lifted an eyebrow in mock surprise and exclaimed, "My, you do get around, Granger."

"Now, is that any way to address the woman you just slept with," she purred teasingly. "Oh, and another thing," she said, quickly switching gears from joking to serious, "in no way are you to use this 'technicality' to brag about."

"To brag about? You must think highly of yourself." Draco pillowed his hands behind his head as he looked amusedly at her.

"What?" she asked, looking affronted. "Lots of guys would love to get a little action with me." She ran her fingers through her hair with a look of pure jest on her face which quickly changed to irritation as her fingers snagged on a tangle.

"Is that right?" He smiled as she tugged against the tangle. "Well, I'll be sure to beat them off with a stick the next time they come around. You'll find I can be very protective about the women I sleep with." He flashed her a rakish grin and a wink.

"Hmm," she intoned thoughtfully, finally succeeding in detangling her fingers from her unruly mass of hair. "I'll remember that. And I'll also remember the vision of you snuggling up to a soft, cuddly teddy bear." Her mounting laughter was muffled under the pillow Draco unmercifully flung over her face.

o-o-o-o-o

Five minutes later, the smiling pair emerged from their room. Laughing, with images of teddy bears and pillow fights fresh in their minds, they rounded the corner of the sauna house to the table where Marja and her father sat already engaged in breakfast.

"Good morning," Marja greeted, eyeing the two with a jovial smile. "I trust you slept well last night."

Hermione could barely contain the urge to giggle as she recalled the banter she and Draco had just exchanged. "Yes, indeed," she agreed. "Quite well." As she spoke she glanced at a slyly winking Draco, to whom she gave a playful but precise jab in the ribs.

"Well," Marja said, offering them a plate of crusty bread and crisp bread with cheese and butter, "today you will experience the traditional essence of Finland." At Hermione's and Draco's expectant looks she explained, "Today is sauna day."

"Oh," Hermione voiced, remembering Harry's admonition to not do the sauna with Draco. Hunting lamely for a suitable excuse to decline she decided on, "I'm afraid I didn't bring the proper attire for the occasion."

Trying to decode her meaning Marja finally realized, "Oh, you mean a bathing suit or something of the like. Well, no need. Bathing suits aren't worn."

"Then what is worn?" Hermione asked cautiously, fearing the answer.

"Why, nothing, of course," Marja answered, confirming Hermione's greatest fear.

Hermione gulped silently as she realized why Harry had warned her about the sauna.

"Remember," Marja reminded, "we have no running water here, so the sauna and the lake are what we use for bathing."

Hermione squirmed a little on the bench while Draco smiled wickedly at her. He then turned his eyes to Marja and asked, "So, how exactly does one properly use the sauna?"

"First, we get the temperature up to at least 100 degrees. Of course, the men usually play the 'who's manlier?' game by seeing just how much over 100 degrees they can stand."

"Do you mean 100 degrees Celsius?" Hermione questioned quietly.

"I'm afraid so, dear," Marja replied. "But it's not really as bad as it sounds. The high temperatures really help in the cleansing process. After you've been in long enough to feel cleansed you then lather up with the soap and brushes."

"So, how do you rinse off?" Hermione asked in a small voice.

"Ah, then comes the most rejuvenating part. Then you run down to the dock and jump in the water."

Hermione looked somewhat blankly at Marja and urged, "Really?"

Marja laughed at Hermione's incredulity and replied, "Really. Now don't judge it before you've tried it. I guarantee you will find it most refreshing."

Draco boldly put his arm around Hermione's shoulder and pulled her close to him. "It sounds wonderful, doesn't it, sweetheart?"

She turned her head swiftly to him and glared petulantly at him. Then she put on a falsely sweet smile and answered, "Of course it does, _dear_."

"Good," Marja said. "Traditionally the men go as a group and then the women, but I figured you two would feel more comfortable going in together as a married couple than with people you hardly know."

"Yes, thank you, Marja," Draco responded.

Hermione smiled weakly and looked at the food in front of her. Even the freshly picked strawberries held no appeal as her appetite was quickly replaced by worry.

After breakfast Hermione and Draco took a walk down to the edge of the lake. A large log lay parallel to the shore, and Hermione sat down on it as she gazed across the water to a small island in the distance. Nervously, her fingers played across the rough bark of the log.

Draco looked down at her worried posture and sat down next to her with a sigh. "Look, it's not the end of the world. I promise I won't look at you in the sauna if it will make you feel any better."

Hermione turned her head to look at him and agreed, "You're darn right you won't look at me! But that's not what's bothering me," she added with a small smile.

"Really?" he asked in slight surprise. "Then what _is_ bothering you?"

Hermione heaved a sigh and folded her hands in her lap. "We have to go back to Helsinki tomorrow, and we haven't found a single bit of helpful information about the Dark Mark."

"I know." Draco leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and watched a mother duck and her ducklings glide across the lake's smooth surface. "But I have this feeling that Marja's father knows something big. After the sauna I plan on spending every last second with him until I discover what it is."

"Draco?"

He turned to look at her.

"I'm glad you're here with me," she admitted. The corners of his mouth upturned slightly into a smile. "Even though I have to do the sauna with you," she continued, teasingly bumping her shoulder into his.

"Hey, consider it an honour," he tossed out somewhat cockily. "Not many women get to be naked with Draco Malfoy. I am rather selective, after all."

"Oh really?" Hermione said wonderingly. "And just how many women _have_ had the honour?"

Draco looked amusedly at her and then shook his head, a small laugh escaping his upturned lips. "I think I'll just leave you guessing on that one."

o-o-o-o-o

"Wow, it's hot in here!"

Small beads of perspiration gathered across Hermione's bare skin as she stared at the wooden wall in front of her.

"Yeah," Draco concurred.

Hermione took in a deep breath and found the hot air stifling. "It's a wonder the Finns don't wither away from doing this all the time." She shifted slightly and closed her eyes. It was uncomfortably hot, but, somehow, also surprisingly relaxing.

"You know," Draco began slowly, "even if you weren't covered in that towel the last thing I would want to do is look at you." He took a slow breath before continuing. "I mean, this environment is not exactly conducive to intimately physical pleasures."

Hermione smiled at his admission. "Draco Malfoy, are you saying that looking at me without my towel would give you…intimately physical ideas?"

After about 10 seconds without a response Hermione opened her eyes and looked over to him. He sat a few feet away from her, a white towel covering him from his hips to his knees. His blond hair looked damp, and his chiseled body glistened with perspiration. His eyelids drooped seductively in the humid heat, grey, blue-flecked eyes boring directly into her. For all intents and purposes, he looked like a Greek god sent down from Mount Olympus to make her feel inadequate.

"Well?" she prompted a bit breathlessly, though from the heat or from his seductive perfection she wasn't quite sure.

His lips curved into an alluring smirk as he answered, "Not in this heat, sweetheart," adding a wink for good measure.

Hermione was grateful for the insanely high temperature at this moment, knowing full well that the blush creeping to her cheeks would never be distinguished from the currently residing flush of heat. She turned her eyes from Draco's to look at the brushes, soap, and water bucket sitting beside her. She felt like a dried leaf withering in the center of a fire and realized that for her internal body temperature's sake, as well as for her sanity, she had better lather up and speed up the whole "cleansing" process.

After dragging the rough scrubbing brush over the areas she could get to without offering Draco a bold view of her fully exposed glory, she turned to him, still glistening magnificently, and ordered, "Give me at least 30 seconds to get myself into the lake before following."

He nodded slowly in response while returning his own scrub brush to the water bucket.

Firmly securing the towel around her she opened the door to the sauna and rushed out into the considerably cooler outside air. As instructed earlier by Marja, she sprinted down the narrow dirt path from the sauna to the dock. Approaching the dock she realized that she had to shed her towel before jumping into the lake to rinse off. Nearing the edge of the dock at a run she waited until the last possible second to remove the towel and toss it over the railing before throwing herself into the water.

She had just pushed off from the dock when a glimmer in the trees across the lake caught her eye. And something…blond? She trained her focus on the spot where she had seen something shiny glint in the sun when suddenly every nerve ending in her body went numb. The ordinarily comfortable water enveloped her in a chilling shock as it washed harshly over her no longer steaming skin. Her head bobbed back up through the water and she sputtered for air as a biting chill paraded down her spine and out through her arms and legs. No sooner had she recovered partial senses when another splash alerted her to Draco's presence.

Hermione paddled her arms and legs slightly to keep afloat as she watched Draco's head poke up through the surface of the water.

"Wow!" he exhaled surprisedly. "Marja was right. That was rejuvenating."

Hermione merely scoffed and replied, "Ha!" her teeth beginning to chatter. "I call it freezing!"

"Oh, come on," Draco urged. "Admit it. This is amazing."

As she continued her paddling the harsh chill soon began to fade and her body commenced its acclimation to the water's temperature. "Well, okay," she admitted slowly. "It's okay once you get used to it."

She paddle swam to the edge of the dock where Marja had placed several bottles of shampoos. Hooking her arm around the ladder leading from the dock down into the lake, she opened a bottle of shampoo and poured it into her hand. With one hand gripping the ladder and the other trying to lather the shampoo into her hair, she was the perfect picture of awkwardness. Hermione let go of the ladder to allow her second hand to help with her hair, and quickly proceeded to sink into the lake.

Draco laughed and swam towards her and the dock. "Here," he said as he sidled his back against the ladder and hooked his legs around it. "Come here." He reached out and grabbed her wrists, pulling her into him.

"What are you doing?" she panicked as she neared his bare chest.

He smiled broadly at her hesitation and said, "Don't worry. I'm only going to help you wash your hair." At her wide eyed stare he promised, "Honestly, I won't try anything funny with you." He continued to pull her closer until their chests were almost touching. "Now," he began rather professionally, "hold onto the ladder."

Uncertainly, she placed her hands on either side of his shoulders and grasped the ladder.

"Now come a bit closer to me so you can hold me against the ladder. You don't want us both to sink, now do you?"

Hermione looked at him like he had sprouted an extra appendage out of his head. What he was suggesting was beyond the levels of decency. She was mere centimetres from his body, and suddenly she was very acutely aware of the fact that they were floating together in the water quite devoid of clothes. Against her rational judgment she very slowly brought herself closer to him.

For the briefest of seconds Draco's eyes flashed something unrecognizable, then he turned his head as he reached for the shampoo. He put a small amount in his hand and lathered it into his other hand before running his palms against her hair. Carefully he began to lift her wet hair and spread the bubbles to the rest of her locks.

As his fingers ran silkily over her scalp she fought desperately to keep her eyes open and not enjoy his gentle massaging too much. She watched him as he diligently worked the foamy bubbles from her hair's roots to ends, his eyes trained on his task. When he brought his fingers back to her scalp her eyes automatically closed and she let out a contented sigh. After several more blessed moments she felt his fingers stop their happy chore. She slowly opened her eyes and her sight rested on him. He was looking directly at her with an expression that she couldn't quite place. Was it appreciation? Desire? _Probably disgust at the realization of what he just did_, she thought defeatedly

But then he smiled and wrapped an arm around her, his hand holding her firmly at the small of her back. He then looped his other arm around the ladder and said, "My turn."

Hermione gasped slightly as she felt him press her body more closely into his. He was being very gentlemanly about the whole thing, not trying to grope or rub against her in any way, but, all the same, she had never felt anything so…well…erotic in her entire life. With a slightly shaky breath, she reached for the bottle and poured some shampoo into her hand.

She began as he had, smoothing her palms over his hair. As she felt his soft hair under her fingers she couldn't help but run her fingers gently through the silken strands and across his scalp. He closed his eyes instinctively, enjoying her fingers' intimate kneading. "Mmm," he moaned quietly, sending a shock wave of electricity coursing through her.

Her breathing quickened as again the awareness of their bodies' close proximity evaded her mind. _Calm down_, she commanded herself. _You are merely doing each other a favour_. But even as she rationalized their behavior and position, the familiar fluttering of excitement swept across her insides.

After her thorough attention to his now sudsy hair, she lowered her hands and rested them on his shoulders. He opened his eyes and grinned lazily at her.

"Well," he breathed out sedately, "that was…"

"…erotic," she finished.

He raised his eyebrow at her candidness and agreed, "Indeed."

She knew she should feel embarrassed for having enjoyed their little encounter so immensely, but all she could feel was the endless barrage of butterflies assaulting her senses, and, of course, the amazing feeling of his body against hers.

"Well," Draco hinted quietly, "I guess there's only one thing to do now, isn't there?" His eyelids dipped down invitingly and his lips curved up wickedly.

"Oh?" Hermione asked with wide eyes. "And what would that be?"

He licked his lips and brought them close to Hermione's ear. "Well," he whispered, his hot breath fanning down her neck, "it's only natural that one thing leads to another, and, of course, the next obvious step is to…" Here he brought his lips softly against her ear, eliciting a shiver from her. Then he continued his proposition in his most huskily sexy voice, "…rinse off." With that, he put his hand on the top of her head and unceremoniously dunked her under the water.

Hermione gasped just as her head broke below the water's surface. She paddled her way back above the water and sputtered her indignation, propelling back thick, dripping locks of hair which had curtained themselves in front of her eyes. "You are _SO_ in trouble, Malfoy!" she promised as she launched herself towards him. Just as she was about to reach him he dove under the water and out of her way.

"Prat!" she murmured. Just as she held onto the ladder and regained her breath she was again jerked down under the water. She felt a hand firmly gripping her ankle as she plummeted down. She kicked her leg to free it, but the hand grasped tighter and more roughly around her ankle.

_What is Malfoy playing at?_, she thought, feeling the air in her lungs dangerously close to needing replenishing. She hooked her arms around the bottom underwater rung of the ladder. The tugging on her ankle increased and she desperately kicked and fought to pull herself back above the water. Knowing that she needed air immediately, she thrashed about, still unable to shake off the lethal hand. Finally at her wits end, and fearing that she may pass out and possibly drown, she lost her grip on the ladder. Almost instantly she began to sink even lower. But in one quick moment she felt two arms wrapping around her waist and dragging her upward. As she felt her body rising, the hand grasping her ankle let go, and she floated easily to the surface.

Once above the water she gasped and her lungs took in large gulps of air. Draco's arms were wrapped securely around her waist, and without thought she flung her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly to her. Her body shook and Draco held her closer.

"What happened?" he asked, the concern and worry clear in his voice.

"Some…someone…something…pulled me under," she choked out between breaths. "A hand grabbed my ankle…I thought it was you…but then you pulled me up…and then the hand let go." She buried her face in his neck and continued to clutch him.

"Are you sure?" One of his hands left her waist and held onto the ladder.

She nodded her head vigorously.

"Come on," he ordered gently. "Let's get you out of here."

He repositioned them so Hermione was right in front of the ladder. He let go of her waist and guided her hands from around his neck to the ladder. She took hold of the rungs and quickly bounded up and onto the dock, not even caring if Draco was watching her ascent.

Once on the dock she grabbed her towel and clutched it around her. In an instant Draco was at her side wrapping his own towel securely around his waist. Hermione stood dazed, her eyes glassy and unresponsive. Quickly Draco picked her up and cradled her in his arms. Without delay he turned and walked swiftly up to the sauna house.

Draco pushed the door open and brought Hermione into their small room. With his foot he nudged the door closed and then sat on the bed, bringing Hermione to rest on his lap. His arms folded securely around her and he rested his cheek against her head.

"It's okay, Hermione," he soothed. "Can you tell me anything else about what happened?"

She shook her head slightly. Then she remembered something. Something shiny… glimmering in the sun. "Yes," she said abruptly. "When I first jumped in the lake I saw something shiny in the trees across the lake."

"Like what?" he urged.

"I'm not sure, but I think it was metal." She wracked her brain for something else, anything else. Then she remembered. "I saw something…blond."

"Blond?" he repeated. "Like a person's hair?"

"I think so. But it was all so fast. I got caught up in…_other things_," she said pointedly, "and then I forgot about it."

They both went silent for a few moments, considering what had just happened.

"Well," Draco finally ventured, "it's a pretty sure bet that someone involved with the Dark Mark knows what we're doing here. We had better get to finding things out from Marja and her father. And we also should warn them. We don't want them to be the next victims."

Draco made a move to shift her from his lap but she threw her arms around his body and nuzzled into his chest.

"Not yet," she pleaded. "Just hold me a little longer."

Obligingly, he sank back onto the bed and continued to hold her, rocking her gently back and forth.


	10. Chapter 10

Hermione leaned slightly into Draco as they stood before the door leading into the main cabin. "Don't worry," Draco reassured her as he tightened his arm around her waist. "We're going to get to the bottom of this." He lifted his other hand to the door and rapped firmly against the wood.

After a few moments the door opened and Marja appeared in the doorway. Her usually warm smile faded as she looked at Hermione's troubled face.

"Is everything all right?" she asked dubiously, glancing questioningly between Hermione and Draco.

"Actually," Draco replied uneasily, "we were hoping we could come in and discuss something with you and your father."

"Why, of course," Marja obliged, stepping aside to allow Hermione and Draco to enter the cabin.

The cabin, although much larger than the sauna house, was still small. A little sitting area with a wrap around sofa and a small coffee table greeted them on the right as they entered. Beyond that against the back wall was a dining table large enough for six surrounded by various benches. To the left of the cabin lay two undersized bedrooms and a miniature walk-in kitchen. Marja ushered them to the dining table where her father was immersed in a solitary card game.

"Ah, sit," Marja's father said, gesturing them towards an empty bench.

As Hermione and Draco took the proffered seats, Marja rounded the table and sat on the bench opposite them. "What's wrong?" she asked as soon as they were all seated.

Draco looked cautiously at Hermione and then back to Marja. "Well," Draco began calmly, not wanting to alarm Marja, "we just encountered an...incident...down at the lake, and we believe that something very dangerous is going on around here.

"Dangerous?" Marja asked concernedly. "What happened?"

Draco paused for a moment, struggling over how much to divulge. "Someone...or something...tried to drown Herm...Hannah," he corrected, hoping he hadn't slipped up too noticeably.

"You're kidding," Marja said hopefully, but turned immediately to her father when she saw the confirmation in Hermione's eyes. Marja began speaking quickly in Finnish, glancing occasionally at Draco and Hermione. Her father's eyes flashed to Draco as he spoke something that was inflected as a question.

"My father asked if you saw anyone," she directed to Hermione.

"I'm not sure," Hermione admitted quietly. "I saw something shiny glinting in the trees across the lake. Like metal. And I thought I saw something blond. But it could have just been the sun reflecting off of something like a bush or an animal."

"Or it could have been a person," Marja supplied, turning back to her father to interpret.

At the end of Marja's interpretation her father stood and mumbled something. He indicated for the others to remain seated, and then disappeared into one of the bedrooms. Hermione, Draco, and Marja all looked at each other as scraping and scuffling sounds emanated from the occupied bedroom. After several minutes, Marja's father returned clutching some sort of small paper in his hand. He again spoke in Finnish and Marja interpreted.

"Can you describe the color of whatever you saw that was blond?" she asked. "Was it yellow blond? White blond? Something else?"

Hermione furrowed her brow in thought as she struggled to recollect what she had seen in that split second. Finally, she turned and looked at Draco. "Well," she stared hesitantly, "it was kind of like," she then touched her fingers lightly to Draco's hair and finished, "this."

Marja's father nodded slightly as he chewed the inside of his cheek, again glancing at Draco.

"Oh, but it wasn't him," Hermione defended quickly, putting her hand on Draco's arm. "He was in the sauna with me, and he pulled me up as whatever it was pulled me under the water."

Again Marja's father spoke in Finnish and Marja translated into English. "Can you describe the metal object?"

"I'm not sure," Hermione answered truthfully, once again searching her memory for a brighter recollection of the incident she desperately wanted to forget. "It was about this far away from the blond thing," she said, indicating the approximate distance from head to waist. "I suppose if it was a person," she deduced, "he could have been holding the metal object."

Marja whispered something cautiously to her father, and Hermione and Draco watched as he closed his eyes for a few moments and took a deep breath. He then opened his eyes and said, "Was it...this? Was it...him?" He held the paper out to Hermione.

As she took the paper from him she realized it was actually a photograph. The subject of the photo was wearing a dark graduation robe and held a thin, metre long sheath topped with a metal serpent's head. There was no way she could tell if this was what she saw in that brief second before she hit the water, so she turned her eyes to the person in the graduation robe. He was a young man with prominent features and what appeared to be white blond hair in the black and white photo. He looked vaguely familiar. She squinted her eyes to look more closely at the young man when very suddenly Draco whisked the photo from her hand.

"Where did you get this?" he asked shortly, his breathing quickening.

Marja's father responded in Finnish, and Marja said in English, "My father's friend took it at a graduation."

"But why do you have this?" Draco demanded, his volume rising slightly. "Who is this man to you?"

Marja looked alarmedly at her father who was staring intently at Draco. After a few moments he said in a thickly Finnish accent, "This man is my nephew. Who is he to you?"

Draco paled but continued to stare back. After a heavily weighted silence Draco answered, "This man is my father."

The air bristled with silent tension as Draco and Marja's father stared at each other. Hermione looked between the two men, both stone faced and still. They were so different. One young, pale haired and fair complected, with features not as sharp as they once had been, but still prominent and defined. The other much older, whitened hair splashed with flecks of dark brown, face withered and tanned, yet fraught with the wisdom of age. So different, yet they seemed to have at least one thing in common.

After a long drought of silence Marja's father's face softened. He looked at Draco wistfully, as though memories long since dead had reawakened in him. Very slowly, in his heavy accent and broken English, he said, "I knew you…reminded me of him."

At the older man's nostalgia Draco's stare became less forceful. Seeing the Finn's eyes water slightly he asked less harshly, "How can you be my father's uncle?"

Marja's father chuckled quietly and returned, "How can you be my nephew's son, Dean Thomas?" His eyes twinkled as Draco finally broke eye contact with him and turned to Hermione.

Hermione was speechless, still in awe over the revelations that were transpiring. At a loss for anything else to do, she took his hand in hers and squeezed in gentle reassurance.

"Forgive us for our deception," Draco began, turning to face the two Finns, "but we felt it was necessary for everyone's safety. I am Draco Malfoy. And this is Hermione Granger, my work associate."

"My father told me after our first meeting that you were a spot on copy of a Malfoy," Marja said quietly, still rather ashen faced.

"Your father is very astute," Draco said by way of compliment. "Now," he said, turning back to his father's alleged uncle, "please tell us your story."

The old Finn took a deep breath and sighed before breaking into Finnish, while Marja interpreted.

"While at a showing of my merchandise outside of London I met the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. She was an angel. Her beauty was incomparable to any other. My English was poor, but I discovered her name—Lucretia Malfoy. We fell in love. She told me her family would not approve because they did not like those who were different. I thought she meant because I was not English. I soon found out she meant because I was not magical. But that didn't stop us. We were married shortly thereafter. Somehow we managed to hide the fact that I was non-magical for quite some time. But eventually the Malfoys found out, and Lucretia was disowned. We left England immediately and came to Finland where we raised Marja."

Hermione tilted her head to the side and looked questioningly at Marja. "So, if your mother was a pure-blooded Malfoy," she asked hesitantly, "are you a witch, too?"

"Humph," Marja snorted in mild self derision. "Only in the loosest sense of the word." After seeing Hermione's wide eyed look Marja softened and said, "I went to Durmstrang. But after I graduated I put away my wand and decided to join the Muggle world with my father."

"Why?" Hermione asked.

Marja looked diffidently at her father, who nodded slightly at her. She then looked back to Hermione and Draco, took a calming breath, and began her narrative.

"After England we moved to Vantaa, not far from downtown Helsinki. We lived there during fall, winter, and spring, but came here for the summer. We used to own another cabin across the lake before this one. I started Durmstrang when I was eleven. I knew my mother was proud of me, but she never pushed me into magic. She let me make my own decision. I loved magic. But, then, at the end of my sixth year, my father came to get me from the train station. My mother hadn't come because she was fixing the cabin for a welcome home celebration. When we got back all of the other lake residents were scrambling around, terrified and confused. And they should have been, for hanging directly over our cabin was a large green skull with a snake twisting through it."

Hermione gasped and clapped her hand over her mouth in horrified shock. Marja looked sadly at her and continued.

"My mother had fallen victim to the killing curse that night. After my father confirmed the worst we left, not even stopping to gather our things. We went back to Vantaa. I was in shock that my world, my mother's world of magic, had turned on her. Father convinced me to return to Durmstrang for my last year, but from then on I never could love the world that had taken my mother from me."

The four sat soundlessly around the table, no one daring to shatter the stunned silence that had descended over the cabin. Hermione stared down at the table, the enormity of Marja's tale weighing heavily on her. Finally she whispered softly, "I'm so sorry, Marja."

"Me too," Marja replied simply.

After another few moments of silence Draco asked calmly, "Do you know who did it?"

With a few misty tears in his eyes Marja's father spoke, "I saw Lucius there that night."

At that Draco's eyes turned cold. His jaw clenched and Hermione could see his fists balling under the table. "He killed his own aunt?" Draco asked through gritted teeth.

"No," Marja's father replied uncertainly. "I don't think so. Not directly. He saw me, and he looked…afraid. He was with the group that did it, I am certain, but I don't think he knew his aunt was the victim. Until he saw me." Marja's father looked winded, as though speaking in English had drained him somehow, so he returned to speaking in Finnish.

"My father says he doesn't think Lucius could have consciously killed his own aunt," Marja translated.

"Maybe not then, but he could now," Draco said contemptuously. "If he weren't already thankfully dead, that is," he added.

Marja's and her father's heads shot up instantly. "Lucius is…dead?" Marja's father asked.

Draco nodded.

"Are you…sure?"

"The Ministry of Magic identified his body through magical means a few months ago," Draco answered.

"But Ministries aren't infallible," Marja supplied.

Draco and Hermione both looked searchingly between Marja and her father. "Is there something you're not telling us?" Draco asked suspiciously.

Marja looked at her father and then back to Draco. "I saw him. Just after the last Dark Mark."

Draco raised his hand to his face and ran his palm roughly against his closed eyes. "Tell me you're kidding," he said quietly, a heavy sigh escaping him.

"I'm not," Marja said apologetically. "I'm sorry, Draco. I can see that you are not like your father, and that means you are in danger. You and Hermione," she finished, glancing sorrowfully at Hermione. "If we had realized your connection sooner we would never have invited you into danger's path."

"We know, Marja," Hermione said managing a small smile. "You have been nothing short of gracious hosts, and for that we thank you."

Marja returned a weak smile and then glanced longingly around the small cabin. After her short perusal of her surroundings she sighed and said, "Well, I suppose the safest thing to do is to go back to Helsinki."

"No," her father grumbled as Hermione was about to nod in agreement with Marja. "I will not allow Lucius or anyone to drive me from my own home again." Then his eyes softened as he looked at Draco and Hermione. "But maybe you should go."

"No." Draco's voice was soft, yet bristled with unmasked danger as his eyes lifted from the table to his father's uncle. "I have let my father decide my actions for me my whole life. I will not allow him to continue to do so now."

"But, Draco," Hermione said, gently touching his arm, "what will happen if he finds you?"

Draco turned his determined eyes towards her in a look of defiance. "He won't have a chance to find out, because I'm going to find him first."

Hermione looked at him with slight disapproval, Marja stared wide eyed, and Marja's father smiled.

"I wish Lucius had turned out like you," he said. "He was a good boy who was lured away by power. But you…you are a good man." The two men, so different and yet so alike, looked at each other, an unspoken understanding and respect between them. "How can we help you?"

Draco looked at his newly discovered great-uncle and shook his head. "It's too dangerous for you. Marja's right. You should all go back to Helsinki."

"Don't be foolish," his great-uncle said. "Marja knows some good charms that will help."

"But," Hermione asked looking at Marja, "didn't you say you put your wand away after you graduated?"

Marja looked at Hermione a bit contritely and confessed, "Well, I do use it occasionally." After Hermione's questioning stare Marja said, "Well, you don't think I empty the outhouse by hand, now, do you?"

A few moments later Hermione said to Draco, "I think I should find Harry. After all, he may have some information that will help us."

"Harry?" Marja questioned.

"He's a friend of mine from school and the Ministry. He's been doing some investigating here since the Dark Mark appeared," Hermione explained.

"You trust him?" the Finn stated more than asked.

Hermione looked at her with a genuine smile. "With my life."

"So," Draco began reluctantly, "when do we meet with him?"

"We?" Hermione turned to Draco surprisedly.

"Well, you don't think I'm going to let you go alone with my deranged father wandering around, do you?" Draco's eyes were filled with true concern and determination. "When?" he repeated.

"Just before dinner," Hermione replied, her heart filling with gratitude for Draco's protectiveness.

"Well, then," Draco said diplomatically, his eyes turning to face his new family, "we don't have much time to plan. So let's get to it."

o-o-o-o-o

Hermione and Draco trudged up the embankment from the cabin to the small main road in relative silence, the scuffing of rocks and dried leaves under their shoes the only sound emanating from the pair. The birds sang jovially, darting in and out of the wind ruffled trees, but the only thing Hermione heard was a low hum of warning echoing in her head. She folded her arms and tramped her heavy footfalls reluctantly next to Draco, not unlike a petulant child being made to come home after a fun day at play.

"Make a little more noise and maybe we can alert all of the Death Eaters to our whereabouts." Draco's sarcasm dripping tone made Hermione stop abruptly and glare at him.

"Why not?" she asked with flippant defiance. "It will just speed up the inevitable."

"Stop being a child, Granger," Draco huffed out testily.

"A child?" she repeated in a dangerously low pitch. "If I may remind you, I am not the one with the foolhardy, half-baked plan to just waltz right into Death Eater Central and announce, 'Here I am, Daddy. I'm on your side again.'"

Draco turned to face her with a withering look. "Grow, up, Granger. Don't trivialize this with your silly pouting. You know how bad my father can be, and who knows how bad the rest of his motley crew can be. If anyone is to go charging into the fray it had better be me."

"But why?" Hermione pleaded. "Having you go is worse than having any of the rest of us go. You are a blood traitor to him now. Your betrayal is a thousand times worse than anyone else's. We should all attack at once."

"Hermione," Draco said tiredly, "we've been through this. He knows the Aurors are here. He knows _we_ are here. He's expecting a mass attack."

"Then send someone else." Hermione's eyes shone brightly with hope.

Draco shook his head sadly. "My father wouldn't think twice about killing any of you the instant you stepped into his territory."

Hermione clung tightly onto Draco's arm. "And what about you? His own son betrayed him and his master. He won't consider that more than a personal affront?"

"Of course he will," Draco said quickly. "But he won't kill me right away. He'll want to know why I did what I did."

"You mean he'll want to torture you endlessly first," Hermione sighed defeatedly.

Draco cupped his hand under her chin and gently tilted her head up so he could look directly into her eyes. "At least I know what my father is capable of. I've even learned how to defend myself against most of his curses. I stand a better chance than anyone. You have to trust that I know my father better than you."

"I do trust you," she said quietly, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "But I've only just found the real you. I'm not ready to lose you yet."

"Yet?" he asked softly, his thumb brushing away an escaped tear.

"Ever," she corrected herself as she opened the floodgates to her heart. "Draco, I'm so scared."

Draco reached out and pulled her shaking body to his. "Shh," he murmured softly against her hair. "Where's that famous Gryffindor courage? I need you to be brave, Hermione. I need to know that you are going to be okay." His hand ran soothingly up and down her back.

Hermione knew she needed to pull herself together. She knew that Draco needed her to be strong for him. She didn't want him walking into the lion's den unfocused because of her. Slowly her crying subsided and she sniffled against his chest. She wiped the tears from her eyes the best she could and looked up into his eyes. "I'm sorry," she apologized.

"For what?" he asked sincerely. "For being worried about me? Don't apologize for that. It's kind of nice to have someone worry about me for a change." He smiled at her and lightly swept a strand of hair out of her eyes.

She smiled weakly back at him. "Please be careful. You have to come back to me."

"I do?" he questioned lightly. "And why is that?"

His eyes penetrated hers as she pondered her response. What did he want her to say? What did _she_ want to say? That she valued his friendship? That she was beginning to love him? She wasn't entirely sure how she really felt about him, but she did know that she didn't want to let him go.

"Because the Leaky Cauldron has a batch of strawberry canapés with your name on it," she said, gently tapping her finger against his chest.

"Oh, really?" he asked, clearly unconvinced. "Is that the only reason?"

She looked into his clear grey eyes and saw the need for something deeper there. "No," she said slightly breathless. "I need you to come back to me because…because I need you in my life."

"You do?" He looked at her as though wanting to confirm that she wasn't kidding.

Hermione simply nodded.

Draco smiled and drew her closer to him, his arms wrapped securely around her. "I will do everything in my power to come back to you, Hermione," he promised. She snuggled her head against his shoulder and held him tightly, sighing contentedly.

After a few moments of their mutual embrace Draco admitted, "You know, no one has ever needed me before. Well, for anything that wasn't directly related to the Dark Lord, that is."

One more final squeeze and Hermione pulled away slightly to smile up at him. She then stood up on tiptoe and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. "For good luck," she explained.

"Thanks," he said, returning her smile. "Well, I do believe I have an appointment with an arch nemesis to keep."

"With a friend," Hermione corrected. "Any friend of mine is a friend of Harry's."

"Well, we'll see about that," he replied skeptically while beginning to walk, Hermione by his side.

After several minutes of walking they finally approached the well. Hermione then led Draco past the well and to the place where she had met Harry last. As they reached the clearing that was to be their meeting place she looked around for Harry.

The aged trees stood stoically firm against all of the elements except for the gentle breeze, which breathed a ripple through the delicate leaves. Hermione lifted a stray curl from her face as she heard a twig snap. Instinctively she grabbed for her wand while turning quickly towards the source of the noise. She whirled around to face Draco, who also held his wand at the ready. Hermione's questioning glance met Draco's determined one as a low voice sounded from behind a tree.

"Malfoy," came the voice in a mildly disgusted tone.

Draco loosened his grip on his wand slightly as he muttered resignedly, "Can this meeting get any worse?"

Hermione held her breath as a tall cloaked figure emerged from behind a tree, his build familiar and his shock of recognizable hair escaping from under his drawn hood. She lowered her wand and bounded towards the figure in a sprint, a large smile stealing across her features in pure happiness.

"Ron!" she proclaimed as she flung herself into her friend's waiting arms knocking the hood back from his face.

"Hey, Hermione," Ron spoke breathily, the wind somewhat knocked out of him by Hermione's tight grip. He returned her greeting with a little less fervor, but still enthusiastically.

After a moment they released each other and Hermione stepped back a pace to look at him. "What are you doing here?" she asked brightly.

"Well," he began, leading her to a fallen log and sitting next to her, "I had been stationed in Estonia initially, then I was made the Auror liaison between us and the Magical Law Enforcement Officers back in England. I was between Estonia and Dover a lot. In fact, your roommate, Susan, was my contact there. We, umm, liaised quite a bit." His ears reddened a little as he said this, and then continued, "They just sent me here today to assist. Apparently we're getting closer to figuring this out."

Hermione sat staring at him with a playful smirk on her face.

"What?" Ron asked, shifting slightly on the log.

"You _liaised_ quite a bit?" Hermione asked teasingly.

Ron rolled his eyes to the sky then back to Hermione. "I knew you'd hone in on that one."

"So, tell," Hermione encouraged.

"Well," Ron began hesitantly, "there's not much to tell. We met everyday to give reports and coordinate our efforts. We usually met for lunch or dinner."

"You went out with her every night?" Hermione pressed excitedly.

"It wasn't every _night_," Ron defended. "And we rarely went _out_. We usually had dinner brought in to the field office." He looked closely at Hermione, who still graced him with her knowing smile. "Stop looking at me like that. It's not like we're looking at rings or anything."

"So you _do_ like her!" Hermione exclaimed triumphantly.

A slow flush crept slyly across his cheeks. "Well, she _is_ a nice girl," he confessed.

"And you are a nice guy. Scratch that. You are a _fantastic_ guy," she said throwing her arms around him again. "Are you happy?"

"Yeah," he replied with a smile. "I am."

Hermione returned his smile and reached down to take his hand for a moment, giving it a friendly squeeze.

"As fascinating as Weasley's love life is, we have more important matters to discuss."

Hermione looked over to Draco apologetically, just remembering his presence there. "Right. Of course," she relented.

"Where's Potter?" Draco directed to Ron.

"On assignment," Ron said with a small scowl. "He told me he was supposed to meet Hermione here and asked me to come instead."

"Where is he? Is he okay?" Hermione asked worriedly.

"He's fine," Ron said reassuringly. "He's…" Ron looked at Draco then back to Hermione and paused. "You're really not cleared for this information, you know."

"Ron," Hermione placated, "Harry knows we're doing our own investigating. We have new information, and putting it together with the information you have will help us get to the bottom of this."

"Come on, Weasley," Draco drawled. "You're wasting time, so liaise already."

After a pointed glower at Draco, Ron turned to Hermione and relented. "Okay. Harry is on a stakeout with Kingsley Shacklebolt. They're watching one of the cabins for activity. They think some sort of big meeting is going to happen tonight, and they're waiting to see if we can take them by surprise."

"No!" Draco said firmly. Ron and Hermione turned to him at his outburst. "That's exactly what my father expects."

"Your father?" Ron asked looking at Draco. Then he heaved a sigh and said, "So you know. It figures."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Draco asked with a hint of offense in his voice.

"What do you think, Malfoy?" Ron returned.

"I'm not a spy for my father, if that's what you're insinuating, Weasley." Draco took a step towards Ron.

"Oh, really?" Ron shot back while rising to his full height. "Then how do you know what your father is planning?"

"Stop!" Hermione commanded stepping between the two young men, hoping to halt any ensuing altercation. "Ron, Draco is not in contact with his father, but he does know his father better than any of us. What we know we've been able to piece together from the information we got from the people we're staying with."

"Who are you staying with?" Ron asked Hermione.

"Marja and Aleksis Mattila," Hermione answered.

"Oh, Alex," Ron said.

"You know him?" Hermione looked at Ron curiously.

"I've talked with him a couple of times. I met with him when I would come here for weekly meetings. He's a good man. But what kind of information did he give you?"

Hermione took a deep breath and recounted everything they had learned from the Dark Mark sighting to Lucretia Malfoy to Marja's magical skills. Ron let out a low whistle through his teeth at the end of Hermione's monologue.

"That's a lot of information," Ron marveled. "You should have been an Auror, Hermione. So, you mentioned a plan?"

"Well, Draco is the only non-Death Eater on this planet Lucius wouldn't kill on sight, so we thought he should sneak into the cabin and distract the Death Eaters so the Aurors could ambush unexpectedly," Hermione explained.

"You're kidding, right?" Ron looked at her with a worried expression.

She met his look with suspicion. "What is it, Ron?"

"We just captured a Death Eater a few hours ago," Ron confided. "He told us that Lucius is waiting for Draco to break in. It's a trap."

"What?" Hermione's pulse began to race. "Maybe he was lying."

"He was under Veritaserum, Hermione," Ron said calmly. After a moment he added, "Lucius has a hostage." Hermione gasped, while Ron continued. "Her name is Mia Juvonen."

"The Minister's daughter," Hermione and Ron said together.

Ron nodded his head. "That's why the Ministry wasn't very helpful or cooperative. The Death Eaters threatened to torture Mia with Unforgivables if Minister Juvonen helped the Aurors in any way."

"That's awful," Hermione said softly.

"Yeah, but that's not all." Ron swallowed hard before going on. "The Death Eater who first captured Mia thought she was a muggleborn. Apparently, Lucius Malfoy is planning on making an immortality potion for himself. He wants to be the next Dark Lord, and ancient dark magic calls for the blood of a muggleborn witch."

"No," Hermione breathed out. "Then why doesn't he let her go?"

"She's part of the trap. Actually, she's the bait." Ron paused and his eyes traveled over Hermione's shocked face. He reached up and gently brushed her hair back over her shoulder. "Lucius is planning on Draco leading _you_ to him."

Hermione blinked her eyes several times before responding. "Me?" she squeaked out. "He wants…_my_ blood?"

"The stronger the magic in the muggleborn witch the stronger the immortality potion. He wasn't planning on using you until…he saw you and Draco in the lake today."

Hermione's face flushed and she asked meekly, "You know about that?"

"Um, yeah," Ron answered uncomfortably. "Apparently the Death Eater we caught was the one who tried to pull you down under the water. By Lucius Malfoy's orders, of course."

Hermione's mind was reeling. She had been nearly drowned, and now Lucius Malfoy wanted her blood for an immortality potion.

Cautiously Ron touched her shoulder. "Hermione?" She blinked and turned her head to him, but remained silent. "Don't worry. We won't let Lucius take you. But you need to rethink your plan."

Hermione slowly nodded her head. Then, finding her voice, she choked out, "Draco?" She turned her head to look at him when he made no response, but he wasn't there. Immediately she jumped up and spun around looking for him. "Draco?" she repeated desperately. She ran to the tree Ron had hidden behind earlier and then checked behind every other tree in the surrounding area, but Draco was no where to be found. "No, no, no," she said with increasing intensity. "He's gone! Ron, did you see when he left?"

"No," Ron said while also searching.

"Oh, no," Hermione intoned under her breath. "He's gone to put the plan in motion. He's walking right into their trap. I have to find him!"

"Hang on there," Ron ordered while holding her back. "That is exactly what Lucius wants. Remember, he's using Draco to get to you."

"But we have to stop him. If Draco goes there Lucius will kill him now, especially without me." She was ranting, but she couldn't stop herself.

"No," Ron said in what he hoped was a comforting way. "Lucius would kill him if he _did_ have you with him. He wants you, not his son. But he probably will put him under the Imperious Curse and order him to come back to get you—"

"But Draco's a strong wizard," Hermione interjected. "I'm sure he can fight off Imperio just like Harry."

"Not if it's cast by ten Death Eaters at the same time," Ron reasoned.

Hot, angry tears of helplessness began to flow down Hermione's cheeks.

"It's okay," Ron pacified. "We'll keep you safe. I promise."

"But can you promise to keep Draco safe?" she asked through her tears.

Ron stiffened slightly at Hermione's extreme concern for his enemy, but softened at the look of sincerity in her eyes. "No, I can't," he replied sullenly.

"What do we do, Ron?" Hermione pleaded. "Draco _and_ Mia are in terrible danger."

"As are you," he responded. Then he put his arms around her and pulled her to him. "Come on. Let's go find Harry. Don't worry. We'll figure this out together."

Hermione sniffled and nodded her head. Although she was terrified for Draco, she felt a measure of comfort as Ron tenderly led her away from the small clearing with his arm securely around her shoulders.


	11. Chapter 11

1"Hang on a second, Hermione." Ron stopped just behind a wide trunked tree and began searching for something in his robes.

Hermione looked at her surroundings. She and Ron stood in an area thick with trees and foliage. She was glad for the dense brush that hid them, but in turn was slightly apprehensive about what may be hiding from them. She turned back to Ron and realized he had taken a palm sized charcoal gray device from his robes and was pushing buttons on it.

"Is that a cell phone?" she asked.

"Yeah," Ron answered, continuing to dial. "We can't get a proper signal up here to actually talk on it, but we can text message."

Hermione smiled at the memory of Ron's botched first attempt at using a Muggle phone to call Harry. If nothing else, he had succeeded in making Harry's Uncle Vernon purple with rage for several hours. "I'm glad to see that you've finally mastered the 'fellytone.'"

"Very funny," he replied unamused. Then he pocketed the cell phone and took Hermione by the hand. "Okay. I've let Harry know we're coming. It's not far from here." Ron began leading her through the thick forest again, holding back branches for her as she passed.

"So, cell phones?" she asked quietly.

"Well," he began, "Risto Luhtanen has a friend who works for Nokia. He thought these may help us. He was right. They've come in quite handy."

"How very Muggle of you," Hermione responded. "Your father would be proud."

"You mean my father would be jealous. Okay, we're almost there. I need to put a silencing charm on us so the Death Eaters can't hear us." Ron then muttered the charm and they continued on in silence.

After a few more minutes of walking they came to what appeared to be a small boarded up outhouse. Ron walked up to the door which was nailed shut and touched his palm to a small sign which read _W.C._ The sign momentarily glowed blue, and then the nails began to sink into the wood and the boards moved out of the way allowing Ron to open the outhouse door. Quietly he led her inside and she stared wide eyed at her surroundings.

On the inside, the outhouse appeared to be a moderately sized cabin. It held two bedrooms, a kitchen, a dining area, and a living room area, all like Alex and Marja's cabin, but was about three times larger in total size. The living room had the typical sofa seating and coffee table, but large, oversized filing cabinets hid all but the tops of the cabin walls from view. A few of the drawers were pulled open and burgeoning files threatened to spill out of their depths. Several other files were scattered across the coffee table, very official looking documents peeking out from between the manila folders. Just as Hermione's curiosity got the better of her and she tried to read the upside down name on the top file a relieved voice called to her from the dining area.

"Hermione!"

She looked up to see Harry swiftly making his way towards her. His arms were outstretched, and within seconds she was enfolded in his tight embrace.

"Thank Merlin you're all right," he sighed into her hair. "You _are_ all right, aren't you?" he asked pulling back slightly to look at her.

"Yes, I'm fine," she assured him, smiling at his concern.

"We were all so worried when we heard what happened to you," he confessed as he led her to sit on the sofa. "I'm so sorry I wasn't there to protect you."

Hermione smiled at Harry's constant need to protect her. "Harry, you don't always have to protect me. I can take care of myself…usually. Besides, Draco was there for me."

Harry grinned sheepishly and cleared his throat. "Um, yeah. I suppose I'll have to thank him for that."

"Speaking of," Ron said, interrupting his two best friends, "Mr. Protector has decided to play hero and charge the hideout on his own."

"What?" Harry exclaimed, turning his head to stare at Ron.

"Yeah," Ron continued. "He had this hair-brained scheme to walk right into the Death Eater meeting and create a distraction."

Harry dropped his head for an instant, shaking it slightly, before lifting it and turning to face a tall black wizard who had just seated himself at the dining table. "Did you hear that, Shack?"

Kingsley Shacklebolt's face remained passive as he returned, "Yes, I'm afraid I did." Then, turning a wizened eye to Hermione he asked, "When did he leave?"

"I'm not exactly sure," Hermione responded. "Ron and I were talking, and when I turned to talk with Draco he was gone. That was fifteen minutes ago."

"And does he know where the hideout cabin is?" The older wizard spoke calmly and evenly, though his eyes betrayed his cool exterior as the possibilities, good and bad, ran through his mind.

"We figured it would be the Mattila's old cabin," Hermione said nervously, each second bringing more and more apprehension to her.

"So it is," Kingsley responded with a small nod. "And does he know of his father's intention to use him to get to you?"

"No. I don't think so." Hermione lowered her eyes to her hands clasped in front of her. An indescribable feeling of dread settled in the pit of her stomach as the three Aurors began discussing the next course of action in hushed tones.

"Well, we can't attack now. Lucius will be expecting it." Ron fingered a few of the loose sheets of parchment spread across the dining table. "Hey, Harry. Come here."

Harry squeezed Hermione's hands gently and stood to approach the table.

When Harry was at Ron's side Ron continued speaking. "Mia Juvonen is being held on the second floor down, directly below the meeting room and only three meters away from the secret Apparation room."

"Yeah?" Harry questioned, urging him on.

"Well, once Draco gets there Lucius will take him directly to the meeting room to…um…_debrief_ him," Ron said delicately, shooting a furtive glance at Hermione.

Hermione shuddered as she unwillingly substituted the word _torture_ for _debrief_.

Grimacing at Hermione's involuntary shudder he proposed, "Do you suppose that Draco, just being there, will provide enough of a distraction to have someone get to Mia? I mean, of course there will still be a Death Eater guarding her, but the others will probably be in with Lucius making plans. One of us could disarm one or two of them pretty easily."

After a moment of thoughtful consideration, Harry turned to Kingsley and ventured, "What do you think? It just might work."

Kingsley ran a hand over his smooth, bald pate in thought. His eyes roamed over the cabin blueprints in front of him as he mentally evaluated the situation and their chances of executing a rescue. After careful deliberation he looked up, a small frown marring his smooth complexion. "It just might. But we can't afford sending in more than one. It will be difficult to enter the hideout without being detected."

"But it might work," Ron replied proudly, immensely pleased that his idea had been accepted by the Senior Auror. "I volunteer for the job."

"Hang on, Ron," Kingsley said in a fatherly tone. "It may work, but we still have a lot to plan before anyone can put it into action."

Ron's shoulders drooped slightly, but he reluctantly agreed. "You're right. So, how do we make it work?"

Hermione sat perched on the edge of the sofa as the Aurors continued making their plans. She was so proud of Harry and Ron who very much looked and acted the part of Aurors. She smiled as they cleverly offered suggestions of strategies and curses to allow their plan to succeed.

After ten minutes of planning and re-planning, Hermione began to frown. Not once in their discussing had Draco been mentioned in their rescue. Hoping that they would get to that part of the plan soon enough she continued to listen. Finally she cleared her throat loudly, earning her three curious looks.

"Everything okay, Hermione?" Harry asked gently.

"Yes, but I was wondering when rescuing Draco would come up." Three pairs of eyes turned guiltily to each other, but only one pair turned back to hers.

"We can't risk it, Hermione," Harry said calmly. "Aside from an almost inevitable Imperious, we have no idea what Lucius has in store for him, nor do we know where Lucius will hold him other than in the meeting room, where countless Death Eaters will be on guard and ready to strike."

"So that's it then?" Hermione questioned disbelievingly. "'Thanks for the distraction, but now you're on your own'? You can't just leave him there, Harry. You know what kind of man Lucius Malfoy is. He won't think twice about killing his own son."

"Hermione," Harry soothingly placated, "after we get Mia out successfully we can focus our attention on Draco. We don't want him to die either, but we have to be careful about our actions. There's only so much we can pull off right under Lucius' nose."

Hermione wasn't convinced, but Harry continued. "We will do everything we can to help Draco, but we have to do things in the right order if we want to succeed."

Harry then smiled encouragingly at her. Taking her silence as acceptance he turned back to his fellow Aurors and their planning.

Hermione stared blankly at the wall to her right. She couldn't believe what she had just heard. They were going to leave Draco on his own. Draco was a smart and powerful wizard, but he couldn't survive against countless bloodthirsty Death Eaters on his own. He needed reinforcements, but the Aurors were in no hurry to help him. Instantly she decided she would have to save him.

Her eyes unseeingly roamed across the wall of filing cabinets as she thought until her eyes rested on something shimmery lying atop one of the cabinets. Her eyes focused in on the flowing material of a cloak as she realized Draco's salvation in front of her—Harry's invisibility cloak. She began to fill with excitement and slight anxiety as she mentally processed all of the information she had gathered from the Aurors and formed her own plan. As she formulated her plan a deep voice drew her from her reverie.

"You're looking a bit flushed, Hermione," Kingsley's bass tones pronounced. "Why don't you go outside for a few minutes? We should be done by then. We have non-detection charms on the area in a 25 meter radius, and you're still protected by Ron's silencing charm, so you'll be safe. Harry will come out for you in a few minutes. Or just knock on the door if you want back in sooner." He then turned his attention back to his Junior Aurors.

This was it! Hermione's heart pounded in her chest. This was her invitation to put _Operation Rescue_ into action. She slowly rose from the sofa and casually sidled past the cabinet on which the invisibility cloak sat. Quickly she tugged on the cloak and thanked the heavens that it quietly slid off the cabinet and into her arms.

She knew she was being foolhardy by putting herself in great danger, but she focused her thoughts on Draco and the fact that he would do the same for her. Silently she left the supposed outhouse and breathed in the fresh Finnish air. A slight chill passed through her as a pleasant wind caressed her.

She looked back at the outhouse as she draped the invisibility cloak over her slender frame. "Forgive me, Harry," she whispered as she determinedly set off on her mission.

xxxxxx

Hermione walked briskly through the dense thicket of trees and shrubs. Even though her silencing charm was still in place, she stepped lightly across the leaf strewn forest floor in fear of being detected.

She knew she didn't have much time. Draco was no doubt being "debriefed" by now, and at any moment Harry and Ron would discover her disappearance. But would they think she had been forcefully taken, or that she had left of her own free will? After Harry found his cloak to be missing he would quickly deduce the truth. A pang of guilt constricted her heart as she realized that her actions would put Harry in danger, too. Harry wouldn't hesitate to burst into the Death Eater hideout, wand blazing, to save her at the risk of his own life. This thought sent a shuddering shock through her, spurring her forward at an increased pace.

After half a kilometer of winding in and out of bushes and brambles, Hermione stopped abruptly. Up ahead, in somewhat hushed tones, voices wafted on the wind. Unable to make out anything distinguishable, she slowly inched towards the muffled sounds of men talking.

As she approached, a small cabin appeared in a clearing just beyond a patch of strawberry bushes. Near the cabin, two hooded men stood facing each other mumbling confidences back and forth.

"Are you sure it's him?" the first hooded figure asked.

"No question," the second figure confirmed. "That hair would give him away any day."

Hermione pressed a hand to her mouth as she realized Draco must have been captured.

"So, what next?" the first Death Eater queried, his hands rubbing together predatorily.

The second responded with a raspy laugh. "The meeting room, of course. The boy is to be questioned and…_dealt with_." He punctuated the final two words with an import that caused the first Death Eater to chuckle murderously.

"Well, then," the first spoke, "I suppose I'll be on my way to the festivities." With a clap to the back of the second Death Eater, the first walked to the cabin door and tapped his wand to the door handle.

Hermione swallowed hard and steadied her nerves. It was now or never. Gripping the invisibility cloak more securely around her she darted from behind the bushes and noiselessly followed the Death Eater through the cabin door.

She had barely entered the cabin when the door clicked closed behind her. For a moment everything around her was darkness. She resisted the urge to light her wand as slowly her eyes began to adjust to the dark cabin.

As her eyes began to take in her surroundings she realized that the inside of the cabin looked nothing like Alex and Marja's. Instead of a cabin it looked like an entrance hall, complete with lit torches ensconced on the polished wooden walls. A blood red rug ran the length of the entry hall leading to a set of double doors at the end of it.

Hermione watched quietly as the Death Eater she had followed in stopped at a door half way down the hall. He rapped firmly on the door and waited for it to open. When it did, two more Death Eaters emerged from behind it and the three marched menacingly towards the double doors. One of the new Death Eaters sharply knocked three times and opened the door.

After all three Death Eaters had disappeared behind the once again closed door Hermione found herself alone in the deserted hallway. Quickly she searched around the hallway and found a set of stairs leading down to the second floor. Glancing around to be sure she was still undetected, she quietly descended the stairs.

At the bottom of the stairs she glanced around and noticed that it looked nothing like the floor above. The walls were made of large gray stones that jutted out in high relief. The floor, also lined in stone, was smooth and flat. More sconces hung along the wall casting dim light and harsh shadows across the corridor.

Remembering her purpose, she looked to her right and found a large wooden door leading to a room that appeared to be directly under the room with the double doors. Hoping she correctly assumed that the room above was the so-called "meeting room" she walked towards the wooden door, her footfalls landing unheard on the stone.

As she approached, she noticed a small alcove recessed into the wall just before the door. In the alcove sat a portly Death Eater in a wooden chair, his hand absently drumming on a small round table next to him. Near his restless hand sat a large pewter cup half filled with an amber colored liquid. Firewhiskey, no doubt, or some other horrid tasting intoxicant. Smiling slightly, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small vial filled with a thick green substance. Unstopping the vial she waited until the Death Eater looked down at a hole in his robes before slipping her hand from under the invisibility cloak and dripping three drops of the green liquid into the cup.

She pulled her hand and the vial back under the cloak just as the Death Eater's hand reached out and caught the cup in an impatient grab. He raised the cup to his lips and took a long draw of the altered liquid. As soon as he thumped the nearly empty cup back on the table his eyes drooped shut and his body slumped down in his chair.

_Bless Marja and her potion making skills_, Hermione lauded as she pocketed the vial and moved to the door. She reached out towards the door and realized that any kind of handle or knob was conspicuously missing. Placing both palms against the door she tried to push it open, but nothing happened. Looking around for some kind of lever or release she found a small Lucite panel in the alcove above the table. She reached forward to touch it then stopped. It would be just like the Death Eaters to rig it to trip some sort of alarm if anyone unauthorized touched it, so she took the limp arm of the sleeping Death Eater in the chair and placed his palm against the panel. Immediately the panel glowed bright green and the door clicked open. Checking once more to ensure that she was alone and unseen she pushed the unlatched door open and entered.

The room was very simple and devoid of decoration. Smooth, rounded stone jutted out from the wall as in the corridor and flat stone covered the floor. A thin, grotty looking cot was the only ornamentation in the room, a tattered and dingy white sheet covering it from head to foot.

Hermione took in a sharp breath of air as she spied a petite figure sitting on the cot. The girl sat with her back against the protruding rocks, her knees pulled up tight to her chest and her arms resting across her knees. She wore faded blue jeans with a hole in the left knee and a dirty long sleeved t-shirt that had been ripped at the midriff. Dirty pale blue trainers which poked out from beneath the jeans appeared to be new under the dirt. Her mid-length, slightly wavy dark brown hair was frizzed up at the ends and warm brown doe-like eyes peeked out from a dirt smudged, tear stained face. The girl was the picture of abused innocence, and instantly Hermione's heart went out to her.

The girl's eyes stared unseeingly at the doorway, her countenance steady and unflinching. "Whoever it is, come in and do what you have to do, then leave," her voice clipped out in a raspy monotone.

Hermione was momentarily taken aback by the girl's bravely unimpassioned challenge, but realized that she had been held prisoner by the Death Eaters long enough to distance herself from her fears. As the girl continued to stare through Hermione to the corridor beyond, Hermione realized she still had the invisibility cloak on. After closing the door slightly to block the view of the corridor, she pulled off the cloak. The girl's eyes grew wide as Hermione materialized out of thin air, but said nothing.

"Mia Juvonen?" Hermione asked quietly.

The girl nodded slowly, her face still passive as she evaluated Hermione's presence.

"Don't be afraid. I'm Hermione Granger and I'm here to help you," Hermione said softly.

"I'm not afraid," Mia said almost defiantly.

"No, you're not," Hermione agreed, smiling warmly. "Now, we need to get you out of here. How much do you know about this place?"

"Well," Mia began, "I know this place is horrid and that the Dark Master has everyone here under his thumb."

"The Dark Master," Hermione repeated, visions of the loathsome Lucius Malfoy defiling her mind. "So that's what he's going by these days," she said contemptuously under her breath.

"What?" Mia asked. "Who?"

"Oh, just that sorry, imbecilic excuse of a man who has imprisoned you here," Hermione said bitterly.

The corners of Mia's mouth twitched up slightly at Hermione's irreverent description of her captor. "I know who you are," she said somewhat conversationally. When Hermione looked at her she continued. "You were Viktor Krum's interest."

"Yes, I suppose I was," Hermione agreed, surprised that this girl knew who she was. "Do you know Victor?"

Mia shrugged noncommittally. "We've met. He was a few years older than me in school, but we've had some contact through my father's Ministry position. Nice guy, I suppose, if you go for that sort."

Hermione smiled at Mia's assessment. She was beginning to like this girl. "I agree. He never really was my sort. Nice, though."

"So," Mia broached after a moment, "are you an Auror?"

"No," Hermione answered kindly. "I work for the British Ministry's Department of International Magical Co-operation. But my two best friends are Aurors."

"Guilty by association," Mia jibed gently.

"True," Hermione chuckled lightly. "Harry and Ron always did get me into trouble."

"Harry?" Mia queried. "Harry Potter?"

"Mm, yes." Hermione watched as Mia's eyes grew worried.

"I've heard them speak of him. The Dark Master has instructed them to kill him on sight."

Hermione's heart began to pound as her fears were confirmed. "Malfoy," Hermione spat out distastefully.

"Pardon?" Mia asked.

"'The Dark Master' is a presumptuous title. His name is Lucius Malfoy, and he is a slimy, despicable son of a bludger." Hermione's eyes narrowed as she spoke of him. "And right now he has one of my friends upstairs in the meeting room."

"Oh." Mia's eyes widened in understanding. "Are you here to save her, too? Or is it a him?"

"Him," Hermione said thoughtfully. "He is Lucius' son, and I can only imagine what horrible things Draco is having to endure right now."

"He'd torture his own son?" Mia exclaimed incredulously. "It figures. He's a terrible tyrant."

"Mm," Hermione intoned as she shook violent images of torture from her mind. "Look," she began hastily, "I gave the guard outside a sleeping draught, but it wears off after 15 minutes. We'd better hurry. We have to find Draco and get out of here."

Mia swallowed thickly then lifted her head up determinedly. "Okay. Well, let's get moving."

Just as Hermione and Mia reached the door several loud voices boomed through the corridor.

"Oh no," Hermione whispered as a cold chill crept up her spine. She immediately covered herself with the invisibility cloak and hissed, "Pretend I'm not here."

The voices stopped right outside the door.

"Sterling. Sterling!" one of the voices shouted. "Wake up, you drunken fool!" Hermione heard a loud smack followed by incoherent babbling. "Old codger's drunk himself into a stupor again," the voice said grudgingly.

Hermione prayed that Sterling's stupor would distract the other Death Eaters from noticing the somewhat opened door.

"I'm awake, I'm awake," the portly Sterling grumbled. "Whatcha need?"

"Open the door to the holding room. We have another prisoner," the other voice commanded.

"Right away," Sterling complied, and a small click sounded within the door.

Hermione held her breath as the Death Eater in charge pushed the door open, assuming that it had only just been opened. She clapped her hand over her mouth to hold back a gasp as she saw two more Death Eaters enter dragging an unconscious and bloodied Draco between them. They dumped Draco unceremoniously on the cot and turned to leer at Mia.

"Well, girlie," one of them spoke lewdly, "we brought you a…friend. Doubt he'll be enough for you, so you just holler when you want a real man."

Mia cast him a disgusted look and taunted, "Well, don't hold your breath, because when I want a real man I certainly won't 'holler' for you."

The head Death Eater held back the other now outraged Death Eater as he made to jump at Mia. "You'd better watch out, girlie," he threatened. "Your usefulness is running out, and soon the Dark Master won't need to protect you anymore. And I'll be waiting."

Mia stared boldly at the man in a challenge as the other two dragged him from the room. Just before the door was pulled shut Hermione slid a loose floor stone between the door and the door jamb, propping it up imperceptibly. When she was sure the footsteps had faded away she pulled the invisibility cloak from her and dropped down to the side of the cot.

Draco lay crumpled across the cot, his clothes wrinkled and disheveled. Dried blood mingled with fresh to mat down the hair at the left side of his head. Dark bruises had already sprung up over his face and arms, and his right eye had begun to swell.

Hermione chocked back a sob as she gingerly touched the unbruised portions of his face and swept fallen strands of his hair out of his closed eyes. "Oh, Draco," she breathed out shakily. "How could he do this to you? I'm so sorry…I'm so sorry." She buried her face in his chest and tried to contain the tears that threatened to spill onto his rumpled shirt.

She felt a small tap on her shoulder and she looked up into Mia's compassionate eyes. "Here," she said, handing Hermione a few strips of white material and a bowl of water. "I try to conserve the limited water they give me for bathing," she explained. "And I had a white shirt layered under this one when I was captured. I had to use it on my own wounds when I first got here. This is what's left."

"Oh, Mia, did they do this to you, too?" Hermione asked sadly.

"No, thank Merlin," Mia corrected. "But they dragged me rather forcibly through the brush to get here, and I got ripped up quite a bit." She validated her story by exposing a thin pink scar running from her navel to her left side.

Hermione spared her a sympathetic look as Mia knelt down next to her. Together the two girls cleaned and bandaged Draco's wounds.

"You have a wand, I hope?" Mia questioned softly.

Hermione nodded and pulled her wand from her pocket.

"May I?"

Slowly Hermione handed her wand to the younger girl and watched as she cast several healing spells over Draco. When Mia was done, most of Draco's bruises had faded and his eye was no longer swollen. She then handed the wand back to Hermione.

"That was brilliant," Hermione complimented as she pocketed her wand.

"Oh," Mia said, waving off the compliment with her hand. "They teach us in school how to heal dark magic wounds…as well as how to inflict them."

Hermione smiled appreciatively at the young but mature witch in front of her. "Thank you."

Mia returned her smile.

"Well," Hermione sighed, "since _Ennervate_ didn't work we'd better wait for him to wake up. I think we might be noticed with him floating down the hall bumping into walls."

"True," Mia agreed, a small chuckle escaping her.

The two girls sat with somewhat lightened spirits in the silence, glad for each other's presence, and watched for Draco to regain consciousness.

xxxxxx

After what seemed to be hours, Draco began to awaken. He shifted slowly on the cot and grimaced while holding a hand to his stomach.

Hermione immediately sprang to a kneeling position and placed her hand on his cheek, offering soft sounds of comfort. She lightly brushed her fingers through his hair, knowing it soothed him, and was rewarded with a sigh of content.

Finally, Draco's eyes flickered open and he focused on Hermione's relieved face. He reached up to touch her hair and then her cheek as though checking to make sure she was real, then frowned. "They didn't get you, too, did they?" he asked quietly.

"No," she assured him, clasping his hand between her own hands. "I'm here to rescue you."

Draco began to laugh lightly, but his hand clutched his side convulsively and he gritted his teeth together, breathing rapidly.

"Draco?" Hermione asked concernedly. "What did they do to you?"

"Well," he started after the pain began to subside, "my father went all out on the welcoming party. First he tried to get me to answer all sorts of questions about you and Potter. When I wouldn't answer he gave me Veritaserum. Luckily, I had taken the counter potion that Marja made, so it didn't work. Then he tried Crucio a few times. Finally he had his cronies beat me up Muggle fashion until I guess I just passed out. Charming, isn't he?"

Hermione sighed sadly at his tale and comforted, "Don't worry. We'll get you out of here."

"We?" Draco asked suspiciously.

"Oh, yes," Hermione answered briskly. "This is Mia Juvonen. Mia, this is Draco Malfoy."

"Ah," Draco said as Mia moved into his field of vision. "The Minister's daughter."

Mia responded with a nod of her head. "The Death Eater's son."

Draco turned his head slightly to look at Mia as his signature smirk played across his face. "Indeed. But don't worry. I'm not like my father—much."

Mia stared at him challengingly. "We'll see," she quietly articulated.

Draco lifted an eyebrow in mild amusement, and then turned his attention back to Hermione, who had begun speaking.

"Do you think you can sit up?" she asked, her hand sliding gently behind his neck.

"Um," he said hiding a grimace, "sure."

Hermione sat on the side of the cot and wrapped her arms around his back, her hands flat against his upper and lower back, as he pushed himself up to a sitting position. She watched as a flicker of pain passed across his face, followed quickly by impassiveness.

"Draco," she said uncertainly, "I'm not sure we should try to move you yet."

"I'm fine, Hermione," he reassured. "It may be slow going at first, but I can make it."

Hermione looked into his eyes for any sign of faltering, but found nothing but the Malfoy confidence. Just then his mouth formed another smirk, and Hermione realized she still had her arms wrapped around him.

"Oh," Hermione intoned while quickly removing her arms from around him. "Well, then, let's go over the plan." She turned away from Draco under the guise of retrieving the abandoned invisibility cloak , but secretly prayed the warmth in her cheeks would subside before turning back to face Draco or Mia.

"So…," Mia probed, throwing a less than subtle glance between Hermione and Draco, "the plan?"

"Yes, yes, the plan." Hermione turned to her audience and launched into her explanation. "First, we have to sneak out of here and make our way to the Apparation room. From there, we Apparate to the Auror's safe house. What?" She paused her briefing when two pairs of eyes looked at her with twin stares of doubt.

"It's a lovely plan and all," Mia began, "but unless you've got the Dark Mark all kinds of alarms go off if you try to apparate. Not to mention there's an anti-apparation ward placed on the room that you can't get through without a secret password." After seeing Hermione's questioning look she continued. "I tried to escape that way when they first brought me here. Obviously it wasn't a success."

"Obviously," Draco agreed sarcastically.

"But perhaps _your_ Dark Mark will get us past the alarms," Mia condescended, looking impatiently at Draco.

"Yes, just as well as yours did," Draco flippantly replied. At Mia's unimpressed look he added, "Sorry, but no Dark Mark here. Just ask Hermione. She's seen enough of me to know."

Hermione chocked on her denial and began coughing spasmodically. Draco patted her soothingly on the back while continuing to stare unabashedly at Mia, a challenging smirk in place.

Mia shot him a withering look before continuing. "I have heard the bumbling prison guard talk about a secret passageway leading to the other side of the lake."

Hermione, red from her coughing fit, but breathing normally again, perked up with this new information. "Do you know where this passageway is?" she asked hopefully.

"No," Mia replied, shaking her head. "But sometimes when it's really quiet I've heard the faint sound of stone scraping against stone."

Hermione cocked her head to the side and pondered the possibilities, her brow furrowing in deep thought.

"Argh," Draco grumbled after a moment. "That sneaky, slimy, son of a…." Draco paused at Hermione's startled and Mia's expectant expressions.

"Please continue," Mia prompted. "I've already filled in the blank in my head."

Draco regarded Mia with a mixture of amusement and caution before continuing. "I know what we're looking for. It's a secret sliding door. We have one back at the manor. It's where my father's _associates_," he emphasized the word, "enter the manor for secret meetings."

"Do you know where it is?" Hermione asked.

"I wish I did," Draco responded. "But I know what we're looking for."

Hermione flashed her companions a brief but hopeful smile. "Okay, so, change of plans. We find that passage and we get the heck out of here."

"So," Mia asked, "what are we waiting for?"

After Hermione was convinced that Draco could walk on his own, she placed disillusionment charms on each of them before hoisting the invisibility cloak over their heads.

"Um, Hermione, you realize we don't all fit under here, don't you?" Draco asked cautiously.

"Of course I do," she answered hastily. "The invisibility cloak is just to better hide what the disillusionment charm doesn't. Now let's go before Sterling gets some more company. And stick close or the cloak will cover even less."

As the three began to slowly move towards the door, Draco wrapped an arm around Hermione's waist and pulled her close against his side. She wondered briefly if he needed her for support or if he just wanted her to be close to him, but she smiled nonetheless.

The trio moved noiselessly beyond the stone door and past the lightly snoring Sterling, none of them daring to make the slightest sound. They slowly canvassed the corridor searching for the secret door, moving carefully so as to keep the invisibility cloak from slipping.

Their search took them towards the stairway leading up to the entry level and then back to the room they had just escaped from, but all to no avail. Every few meters or so Draco would reach his hand out from under the cloak to inspect a possible chink in the wall and then retract his hand quickly in frustration.

After searching nearly every bit of the walls Hermione felt a mild panic rising inside her. She knew they only had a very little time before their presence was detected. Before long either the guards would discover Mia's and Draco's disappearance or Harry would come bursting in looking for her. Either way they would invariably be found out and tracked down.

Just as she was mentally mapping out her plan of attack for if they were discovered, she heard a slight gasp from next to her. She turned to look at Draco, who had a slight frown on his face and his hand again clutching his side.

"Dra—," Hermione began, but was effectively cut off by a sharp wave of his hand. Only after a few ragged breaths from Draco which changed into less labored breathing did she attempt to speak again. "Are you okay?" she asked in a voice barely above a whisper. "What happened?"

"Aftershock," Mia reasoned from her other side. "Curses and beatings like he's endured have a nasty way of hanging about much longer than necessary."

Draco squeezed Hermione's waist slightly as though in concurrence with Mia's assessment and gave a faint smile to assure her that he was better again. Hermione smiled back and made sure her arm was securely around his waist in like fashion. Making sure her grip was loose enough to keep from crushing his internal injuries, yet strong enough to provide support, she gently urged the trio to resume their course along the stone wall. In fact, she was so preoccupied with studying the wall that she barely noticed Mia's nearly inaudible intake of breath. Hermione turned her head slightly towards Mia and saw the younger girl pointing to an imperceptible gap in the wall.

"There it is," Mia mouthed.

Sure enough, a thin, pale shadow ran nearly the height of the wall, barely a millimeter in width. Before she could even register the only shadowed consistency in the random stone pattern, Draco removed her wand from her front pocket and passed it in front of the wall, lightly tapping two stones on either side of the vertical shadow. Almost noiselessly, the thin shadow began to brighten to a muted violet and the stone wall slid neatly open, revealing a narrow and dimly lit corridor.

"We're in!" Hermione whispered as the three negotiated their way into the passageway.

Once in the tunnel, they let the invisibility cloak fall away from them as the stone door once again slid into place to block the passageway's entrance. Immediately small torches bracketed along the walls burst into flickers of orange illumination. In the increased lighting Hermione saw an endless string of flames dotted along the corridor.

Her heart fluttered briefly at the proverbial and literal light at the end of the tunnel wherein her salvation awaited. Her cheeks began to warm as she flushed in excitement. But then a coldness attacked her, beginning at the top of her head and flowing down over her. She creased her brow in worry and whispered hurriedly to Draco and Mia, "Come on. Let's get out of here."

Just as she took her first step toward freedom she heard a low rumble, a deep guttural sound that escalated into a devilish laugh. Hermione's heart plummeted to the pit of her stomach as an eerily familiar voice penetrated her fears.

"Ah, going so soon? But the party is just about to begin."

Hermione slowly turned around, noticing that their disillusionment charms had been lifted, and stared straight into hard, frozen grey eyes.

"Expelliarmus."


	12. Chapter 12

"Expelliarmus."

Hermione didn't even have a chance to reach for her wand before it sailed swiftly out of her pocket and into the air. She shivered involuntarily as she stared at a disturbingly familiar and deathly cold smirk.

"What? No resistance? No 'Plan B'?" Hermione's back stiffened as she looked boldly at the man she loathed and had hoped never to see again. To her horror, there stood Lucius Malfoy, deftly twirling Hermione's wand with his gloved fingers as he stared down the three teens before him. "I'm disappointed. Hogwarts' top two and, as I understand, one of Durmstrang's most promising. And you've walked right into the enemy's hands. Tsk tsk. Whatever is our world coming to?"

After several seconds of the Malfoy brand of mental intimidation his eyes landed back on Hermione. His lips twisted into a wry smirk as he condescended with false joviality, "Welcome to The Lair, Miss Granger. It appears you are the only one to have missed the welcoming party. But, no matter. We have a much better party waiting for you."

That said, he flicked his own wand at the corridor wall behind them. In an instant, a portion of the wall opened to reveal a secret room. Several Death Eaters appeared in the room and scurried into the corridor to retrieve Hermione, Draco, and Mia, forcibly dragging them back into the room. As the three were none too gently thrown against one of the hard stone walls, arms magically bound behind their backs, Lucius Malfoy strode coolly and confidently into the room, robes swirling impressively behind him.

Hermione glanced quickly to her right and saw Draco and Mia staring belligerently at Lucius. They were remarkably alike in temperament and demeanor, and both seemed to be much more attuned to the Dark Arts than she. As they stood defiantly against the Death Eaters' intimidation Hermione found herself desperately wishing they had wands. Undoubtedly those two could give the Death Eaters a run for their money.

"Is that right?" Lucius' coldly calm voice interrupted Hermione's musings. A stocky looking Death Eater nodded enthusiastically as Lucius appraised him thoughtfully. "Very good," he continued. Keep me apprised of the situation." With a careless wave of his hand he dismissed the Death Eater, who bowed low and backed away from Lucius, settling himself at the head of the other Death Eaters. Lucius then tuned his eyes to the three teens.

"Well, Draco, well done." Lucius' mouth quirked into a lazy smile as he trained his attention on his son.

"What are you talking about?" Draco returned tersely.

"Now, now, don't be coy." He inclined his head towards Hermione. "You've led her right to me. What a _faithful_ son." His eyes flickered menacingly.

Mia turned accusing eyes to Draco. "I knew we shouldn't have trusted you, you filthy piece of—"

"Let them go!" Hermione demanded, effectively silencing Mia and garnering the attention of everyone in the room.

Lucius' eyebrow rose slightly at Hermione's bravado. "Let them go?" he reiterated.

"Yes," Hermione said, sounding braver than she felt. "I'm the one you want; not them. Let them go, and I'll cooperate."

Slowly and ominously Lucius' lips curved into a half smirk, half snarl. "I highly doubt that. Besides, I don't believe you are in any position to make demands." He resumed his twirling of Hermione's wand. "After all," he continued unfeelingly, "three heads _are_ better than one."

A few sniggers came from the waiting Death Eaters and Lucius swelled with conceit. He then looked directly at Draco and whispered something under his breath. Instantly Draco began moving forward, his feet loudly scuffing against the stone floor. After a few moments, however, Draco's movements began to slow as his legs moved with the resistance of a paddle through drying concrete. Then he stopped altogether, his body tense and slightly shaking.

Lucius stared blankly at him. "You've quite improved. But that won't save you, boy. Perhaps your need a bit more…_persuasion_."

At once all of the Death Eaters—eight including Lucius, Hermione noted worriedly—raised their wands at Draco and chanted as one, "Imperio!" Immediately Draco fell to the floor, his knees cracking subserviently into the hard ground, his head bowed low.

Lucius chuckled mirthlessly at the boy who physically resembled him so closely, now completely under his power. "Good boy," he drawled condescendingly. "Release his arms," he commanded to a Death Eater at his right. In a moment, Draco's arms, no longer bound behind him, hung limply next to him.

"Stand!" Draco immediately sprang up onto his feet, his head still bowed in reverence. "Yes," Lucius challenged, "you will do as I say now, for once in your disappointing life." Draco's bowed head nodded on cue. "Now, Draco," Lucius lifted his eyes to meet Hermione's, "bring me your beloved Mudblood."

Draco turned to Hermione and his legs swiftly carried him across the room, the tension and resistance of earlier quite gone. When he stood before her he put his hands tightly on her shoulders.

Hermione looked up into his eyes, which were focused just above her head. They looked oddly blank. Instead of the swirling pools of quicksilver she had become so accustomed to seeing, she stared up into hard, unyielding vats of steel. For the briefest of moments his eyes began to rapidly shift up and down. Hermione horrifically thought he may be giving in to a seizure, but then his eyes flicked down to hers. In that moment she thought she saw a flash of the real Draco. Then his eyes snapped back up to focus above her head.

Before she could consider Draco further, he roughly spun her around until she stood with her back to him. He then pushed her forward, his hands grasping her arms which were still bound behind her back. He maneuvered her around the room until she stood but a mere metre from Lucius.

The elder Malfoy smirked triumphantly at Hermione.

"Good boy, Draco. We should have played this game much sooner in your childhood." Then he regarded his son somewhat distastefully and said, "Why is she still _standing_ before me? One of her tainted blood ought to be _kneeling_ in abject fear before me. Make her kneel."

Hermione felt Draco's hands move up to her shoulders and press heavily upon them, but not hard enough to bring her to her knees. She could feel the pressure of his hands alternating between heavy and light, as though he were waging an internal battle. And then, like lightning from a clear blue sky, it struck her—he _was_ waging an internal battle. He was fighting the Imperius curse.

"I said, make her kneel." Lucius' words were weighted with malice, and immediately Draco forced Hermione to her knees.

Hermione let out a small whimper as her knees crashed hard against the stone. She crumpled forward as the pain soared throughout her, but she couldn't put her hands out in front of her to break her fall. Just before her face collided with the floor, two hands caught her shoulders and righted her. _Draco._

Lucius raised his eyebrows at Draco's sudden move, but said nothing. After a moment of quiet contemplation he turned his eyes back to Hermione. "Look at me," he commanded her. When she refused to lift her eyes her head snapped up painfully as Draco's hand caught in the hair at the base of her neck and pulled down.

Lucius smiled. "So, you thought you could control my son? Turn him into some goody goody Gryffindor like yourself? How very foolish. He will serve _me_, not some dirty-blooded, intellectual show-off." His smile then turned into a grimace of disdain as he added, "Or he will die."

A flash of fear swept across Hermione at Lucius' callous words. As she stared at the heartless and cruel man before her, however, the fear began to melt away and a strong resolve suddenly took its place. She knew that now, more than ever, she had to call upon her Gryffindor bravery. But, at the same time, she knew the only way to beat this foe was to fight fire with fire. Feeling emboldened, she mustered up all the resolve she could and called upon her Slytherin within.

"Lucius," she spoke in a low, cool voice. "Did you not serve a 'dirty-blooded, intellectual show-off' yourself up until just a few months ago?"

"How dare you speak ill of the Dark Lord," Lucius hissed. "He was the most powerful wizard of the age. Do not think to compare yourself to him."

"Yet you compare yourself with him. _You_, the supposed all-powerful Lucius Malfoy, a mere _servant_ of the Dark Lord, dare to self-appoint yourself as his successor. How very presumptuous of you, Lucius."

Lucius stared harshly at her. Then he began to laugh. Within seconds his mirthless laughter resounded throughout the room. "Well done, Miss Granger," he commended condescendingly. "That was quite Slytherin of you. Perhaps Draco has rubbed off on you as much as you have on him." At her attempt to look surprised and unaware he clarified, "You cannot fluster me into carelessness. Although you did momentarily distract me. You didn't really expect me to take your bait and, oh, say, drop your wand within your reach, did you?" He circled around Hermione and Draco like a ravenous vulture. When he had come full circle he stepped closer to Hermione and whispered dangerously, "Perhaps I should hold on to you instead of Draco. Unlike my son, you have never once disappointed me. An admirable quality in a servant."

"I will never serve you," she spat out venomously.

"Ah," he said as he trailed a gloved finger down her cheek, "merely a technicality."

She drew her head back sharply from his touch, a look of disgust blighting her face.

He laughed again. "Don't give yourself airs, Miss Granger," he taunted. "You will never be good enough to serve me…_that_ way." He looked again at his son and said, "Draco, come and join me at my side." Draco stood immediately and strode to stand by his father.

"Look, Miss Granger," Lucius said. "Father and son, side by side, working as one. Yes, the world is as it should be. Take a look at your precious pet project now." He indicated Draco. "He is now in his rightful place and will do as he was born to do—serve me." He extended his arm and presented a wand to Draco. "Son," he commanded as Draco grasped the wand in his right hand, "do your worst."

Hermione's heart pounded wildly in her chest as heavy footfalls penetrated the tension laden air.

Each approaching step echoed across the stone room as Draco advanced on her, his wand trained obediently on the witch before him. When he was within wand's length of her he pushed the wand tip directly to her heart. Hermione sprang back instantly at the contact, her heart continuing its mile-a-minute palpitations.

"Draco," she said softly, hoping against hope for any sign of recognition from the mind controlled boy. She tried to look into his eyes, but they were still slightly unfocused and fixed just above her head. "Draco," she tried again with a little more volume.

"Oh, yes, Miss Granger," came a cold voice from behind Draco. "Do try and coax my son out of Imperio. Your begging shall provide added amusement."

Hermione pointedly ignored Lucius and continued staring at Draco, willing him with all her might to fight the curse he was under. Incredibly, even miraculously Hermione thought, Draco's wand hand began to shake slightly and his eyes tried to shift down to meet hers. Emboldened, she tried to stand up. "Draco," she spoke softly. Before she could get onto both feet, however, Draco's other hand darted forward and roughly pushed her back down onto the stone floor. His eyes had stopped trying to look at her and his hand no longer shook. Hermione backed away fearfully as Draco's lips began to move.

"Stupefy."

A jet of light burst from Draco's wand and headed directly towards Hermione. She barely had time to register the fact that Draco was actually sending spells at her before awkwardly darting to the left to avoid being hit. Her bound arms hindered her movement and in her haste she toppled off balance and landed painfully against the stone floor, her shoulder throbbing from the contact. She looked up at Draco just in time to see him aim his wand at her again.

"Petrificus totalus," he drawled in a lazy monotone.

Hermione rolled over her injured shoulder onto her stomach, just barely avoiding the spell which instead shot against the stone where she had just lain. She breathed in heavily and rested her cheek against the cool smooth floor, her mind a ragged jumble of contemplation.

Once upon a time she could have imagined being in the very same position. The thought of being a prisoner of the Death Eaters, of Lucius Malfoy, had been a very real possibility during the war against Voldemort. Even the idea of being tortured in the inner sanctum of the enemy's hovel had been an image she had deigned to imagine. But watching Draco, the man she had come to respect as a decent person and even a friend, waving his wand _against_ her was unsettling and, even more so, frightening. She found herself at a loss. She could do nothing but hope that Draco could overcome the controlling. Perhaps he could overcome his father's curse, but eight Imperios? She doubted that Dumbledore himself could even beat those odds. A tear of helplessness ran across her cheek as a wry laugh seized her attention.

"Ah, a little game of cat and mouse, Draco? Just as I taught you in the art of Muggle baiting. Very good. Just don't drag it out too long. It does grow tiresome." Lucius crossed his arms over his chest and looked lazily at one of the Death Eaters. "Release her arms. Draco will have much more fun with a bit of a challenge."

Instantly her arms were freed and she moved them to the stone floor on either side of her face. Very laboriously she pushed herself up to her hands and knees.

"Get up," Draco's cold monotone commanded.

Hermione began to get to her feet, but before she could draw herself fully upright she felt herself rising swiftly up into the air. In the next instant she was flipped upside down. The Death Eaters in the room all barked out their hearty laughter as Hermione's head floated a quarter metre from the hard ground. She closed her eyes and gulped down her trepidation as she once more willed Draco to fight the curse.

"Stop it, you lunatics!"

Hermione's eyes shot open and she searched around the room until she found Mia still backed up against the wall and seething in rage.

"You're all sick. Leave her alone!" Mia's eyes narrowed as she stared down Draco. "And _you_, Death Eater's son," she addressed him with unmasked distaste, "fight the curse, you weak fool. You know you don't want to hurt her."

"Is that so?" Lucius eyed Mia with nothing less than cold indifference. "And why is that?"

"Because he's not you, you sick tyrant." Mia's eyes flashed with extreme loathing. "Also," she continued, "because he cares about her."

"My son," Lucius began bitterly, "does not care about a Mudblood."

"Really?" Mia brazenly taunted. "And why is that so hard to believe? _Daddy _cares about a Mudblood…"

In an instant so quick that Hermione had to stare blankly for a few moments to take it all in, several thing happened in rapid fire succession.

A loud smack rang across the room as Mia reeled back against the stone wall from the strength of Lucius' slap, a red welt forming against her fair cheek.

A loud rumbling penetrated the stone room from above causing the Death Eaters to draw their wands.

Draco quickly righted Hermione and slowly lowered her back to the ground, his eyes unfocused and glazed, his wand held loosely in his hand.

"Go and take care of the disturbance," Lucius ordered his followers, his eyes never leaving Mia. "I shall take care of this Ministry brat myself, and Draco will continue with the Mudblood."

The head Death Eater looked hesitant. "But—" he began, his eyes glancing over at Draco's limp wand.

"Go!" Lucius repeated. "All of you. And handle matters swiftly."

"Yes, my Master," the Death Eater said bowing low. With a sweep of his wand a door in the stone opened and he led the Death Eaters out, the door remaining opened behind them.

"You insolent wench." Another smack echoed throughout the room along with a sickening crack as Mia's head made contact with the stone. "I don't care about a Mudblood. How dare you presume such a thing."

"Well, then," Mia started slowly, her countenance leaking hatred, "why don't you just kill her? As you said, you don't care about her. Go on then. Kill her." Mia's eyes spoke challengingly to Lucius.

Lucius tensed as he stared down the unyielding girl before him, yet he made no move to turn away. His lips twisted into a seething grimace as the distaste grew in his eyes.

Mia smiled slightly. "You can't do it, can you?" Her face smirked triumph as she took a step closer to him. "Of course you can't, because you _need_ her." Mia drew out the word in insolent insinuation. "Apparently your son _needs_ her, too. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, does it, _Master_?"

Lucius roughly pushed her away as he drew his wand. "Crucio."

Instantly Mia sank to her knees, a scream of agony ripping from her throat.

Hermione instinctively covered her ears in horror as Mia's piercing scream ricocheted off the stone walls penetrating the otherwise silent air with shrieking agony. She tried to block out Mia's torture by wracking the files of her brain for what to do next, but the howling screams before her and the inconsistent rumble of something a level above her forbade her concentration from remaining intact.

Finally at her wit's end and feeling desperately mad enough to impale herself on Draco's wand just to escape the insanity, she focused in on Draco who had just lurched forward, his eyes wide and his body slightly shaking. Hermione reached out to help steady him just as another tremor sent him staggering into her.

"Draco," she said soothingly, still trying to block out Mia's screams, "I've got you."

Several more times Draco staggered towards her, each subsequent convulsion forcing him closer to the floor. After the sixth convulsion both of them were on their knees, Draco struggling to remain off the floor and raised on his arms and Hermione trying to steady him. She tentatively placed her palm against his cheeks and his eyes shot up to hers. He blinked rapidly several times as his focus attuned itself to Hermione.

"H-Hermione?" he questioned.

She had never felt so relieved and worried at the same time before. "Yes," she breathed raggedly. "Are you okay? Are you going to curse me again?"

"Merlin, no," Draco responded breathlessly. "Stay down."

Hermione stayed on her knees as Draco maneuvered himself on all fours towards his father. He grasped the wand in his hand as tightly as he could in his weakened state and took aim.

"Stupefy."

Just as the word left his mouth one more convulsion tore through him, shifting the spell just off course. Instead of reaching its intended mark, the spell merely grazed Lucius' ear, but it was enough to effectively cut off his Crucio. Immediately Mia's shrieks ceased and she lay motionless on the stone.

Lucius whirled around to face Draco and Hermione, unmasked disgust clearly etched across his face.

"You worthless, disappointing, traitorous child," Lucius spat. "Not only can you not let Imperio work on you, but you can't aim."

Before Lucius could return a more powerful or deadly spell Hermione grabbed the wand out of Draco's hand and aimed it at Lucius.

"Stop, Malfoy," she commanded.

"I don't take orders from Mudbloods," he returned icily.

"Expelliarmus!" she shouted, but her spell was blocked by Lucius' quick "Protego."

"Impedimenta," he shot back, but Hermione successfully shielded herself with her own "Protego."

"Expelliarmus," she shouted again, and this time Lucius' wand sailed out of his hand and onto the floor in front of Hermione.

"My, my. Rather quick for a Mudblood, aren't you?" Lucius eyed Hermione with disapproval. "Well," he sneered, "this is where your advantage ends."

Just as Hermione sent one more spell at Lucius he swirled his robes around himself and disappeared, his wand disappearing with him.

Hermione looked around, but Lucius was nowhere to be found. Instead she saw Draco on the ground, his right hand clutching at his side, his usually tempered face seizing up in pain.

"Draco!" She flung herself next to him and gently placed a hand against his cheek. "You're not okay," she stated frantically.

"I'm…" Draco took in a sharp breath. "I'll be fine. But what about her?" He inclined his head towards the still unconscious Mia.

Hermione turned and took in the sight before her.

"Oh no."

Mia lay motionless on the floor. Her dark hair fanned about her head contrasting starkly against the grey stone. Two bright red welts marred her near-porcelain skin evidencing Lucius' abuse. Her body lay crumpled and nearly broken, her shoulder twisted unnaturally under her.

Hermione ran to her side and immediately searched out her vital signs. She sighed in relief as she found a pulse, but then began to worry again as she realized how shallow Mia's breathing was. With her newly acquired wand she released Mia's bound arms and, after checking magically for broken bones, gently rolled her onto her back.

"Enervate."

Mia remained still.

"Come on, Mia," Hermione urged. "Enervate!"

Mia gulped in a huge breath and her eyes abruptly opened. Her breathing was ragged as she stared up at the ceiling.

"Oh, Mia." Hermione chocked on a sob as she watched Mia regain her consciousness. "I was afraid we had lost you."

For a few minutes all that was heard was Mia's breathing and an occasional rumble from overhead. Finally Mia began to push herself up off the floor.

"Careful," Hermione quietly admonished.

"I think I'm okay," Mia responded. She tenderly touched her red and still throbbing cheek and corrected, "Except for this."

"Here, let me take care of it." Mia dropped her hand from her face and Hermione sent a cool blue wisp of light from the wand tip to Mia's injuries. The welts glowed for a moment, and then disappeared.

Mia again touched her now unblemished cheek and smiled. "Thanks."

"I should be thanking you for the diversion," Hermione started, "but I'm not going to, because it was very risky and almost got you killed." Hermione paused and half-smiled. "But thanks anyway." She shook her head. "You and Draco are so alike. One of you will kill me one of these days. Not from a spell, but from giving me heart failure."

Mia chuckled lightly, but her smile disappeared as she saw Draco shudder on the floor.

"Speaking of…," she said, "What about him?"

Hermione shook her head again. "I don't know what to do, Mia," she admitted sadly. "It's his internal injury from his 'welcome' beating. They don't teach us Medi-Wizardry for Muggle beatings at Hogwarts. It's only gotten worse since the Imperios." To punctuate Hermione's assessment Draco began shuddering violently against the hard stone, his labored breathing choking him.

In a flash Mia grabbed the wand from Hermione's hand and shouted a spell Hermione had never heard before. A string of light coiled from the wand tip to Draco's side in an unbroken cord, small pulses of lavender corkscrewing along the coil which disappeared as they made contact with Draco's body. With each lavender pulse Draco's convulsing began to subside until he finally lay unmoving and quiet. Only after Draco was still did Mia break the spell's coil.

Hermione moved quickly to Draco. He was curled on his side with his eyes open, his breathing remarkably normal. She got down to eye level with him and peered worriedly at him. He smiled and reached out a hand to her.

"I feel much better," he said softly. His fingers found hers and he squeezed them lightly.

Hermione's eyes filled with tears as he drew her into him. She easily allowed him to guide her body against his as she unleashed her tension and stress in a flood of emotion. She pressed her face to his chest and he calmly stroked her hair.

"Shh," he murmured soothingly. "It's alright. _I'm_ alright."

Her breathing hitched as she fought to regain her composure. After a few moments she looked up at him and smiled shakily. "Don't do that again. Don't ever make me think I've lost you."

His eyes penetrated hers and he promised, "I won't." Then he turned to Mia and added, "Thanks."

Mia cocked her head slightly. "I'm sorry I held out on you," she apologized. "I wasn't sure I could trust you."

"Smart," Draco commented as he and Hermione sat up. "I hope you know you can now."

"Yeah," she acknowledged. "I do."

"So," Draco began as they all rose to their feet, "we'd better get out of here. If I know my father, he won't leave us alone for long."

"Which way?" Hermione asked faintly.

"If I knew the spell he used on the door to the passageway I'd say that one," Draco remarked. "But I don't, so our only option is the conveniently opened one."

"Is it a trap?" Mia asked suspiciously.

"Perhaps, but it's our only choice." Draco then led them towards the door. After a moment, though, Draco stopped abruptly. "Shh," he intoned.

Hermione strained her ears and then finally heard it. Footsteps. And they were getting louder.

"Bloody brilliant," Draco said sarcastically. He ushered the two girls behind him, taking the wand from Mia. "Stay near the wall," he ordered.

Hermione pressed herself against the wall behind Draco and held onto the back of his shirt. _Will this ever end?_, she thought.

The three remained silent as the footsteps drew nearer.

Hermione's grip on Draco's shirt tightened as the footsteps halted just outside the opened door. She took a slow deep breath and readied herself for her fate, praying that the three of them and their one wand could overpower any unfriendly attack.

The silence was stifling. Footfalls no longer echoed in the stillness, a testament to the reality that someone waited just outside the door. Hermione's heart raced fervently as her nerves and fears tensed with every elongated second that passed.

Just as she thought she would scream to break the deafening silence she felt Draco's muscles tense under her fingers. In an instant Draco had sprung out of her grasp and pulled a cloaked figure into the room, grappling him soundly against the wall on the other side of the door. The figure's hood was drawn and Draco's body blocked the figure from view, but the sound of labored grunting told Hermione that the intruder was forcefully pinned face first into the wall. She leaned forward from the wall and saw Draco holding his wand firmly against the side of the figure.

"Mal-fhumph." The figure tried to speak but Draco shoved him more firmly against the wall, his face undoubtedly smashing harshly into stone.

"Shut up, you idiot," Draco said low and menacingly. "You almost got yourself killed." He stepped back from the wall and abruptly threw the figure onto the floor. The figure landed on his hands and knees and groaned. His head hung down towards the ground as he breathed in deeply, a bright patch of hair immediately visible under the still drawn cloak.

Hermione's breath caught as she saw the tell-tale red spill forward from under the cloak's cover. "Ron!" She raced to the figure's side and pulled back his hood.

Ron raised his flushed face up to Hermione and gave her a slight smile. "Hey," he said slightly short of breath.

"Ron, what are you doing here?" She helped him lean back so he sat upright against the wall. She brushed her hand across his forehead and swept back a lock of red from his face.

"I believe the more appropriate question is, what are _you_ doing here?" he said as he grabbed onto her wrist and lowered it from his face.

Hermione stared at him apologetically. She knew her actions had been rash and not thought out, but she had been scared. Scared for Draco and what horrors he experienced. Scared for herself and what would happen if she lost him. But she had also been angry that Harry and Ron had been so apathetic about rescuing Draco. That anger and fear had gotten her into this mess, and she felt properly self-chastened for her foolish rescue mission, but she knew she would do it again in a heartbeat to save Draco. She wanted to voice all of her thoughts but settled simply for, "You know what I'm doing here."

Ron glanced over to Draco, who stood stiffly against the wall next to Mia, and then back to Hermione. He fixed her with a grimace of resignation and replied, "Yeah. And I still think you're nutters."

Hermione quirked a small smile at Ron before her face fell back into its worried expression. "Where's Harry? Is he okay?"

"He's fine," Ron placated. "He's upstairs doing a sweep of the area. We ran into four Death Eaters right off, and then seven more attacked us from the stairwell. I'm supposed to be checking down here for you. Guess I've been successful."

"You're lucky we weren't Death Eaters, Weasley," Draco said pointedly. "You'd be dead by now, what with your pathetic stealth skills."

"Sorry I was hit with a few curses upstairs before taking down eleven Death Eaters with Harry, Malfoy." Ron looked at Draco with as much fondness as hugging a spider.

Despite the animosity brewing between the two boys, Hermione looked admiringly at Ron. He and Harry had bested eleven Death Eaters between them. They could have easily been overpowered, but they had prevailed.

"The seven must have been the ones Lucius sent up when we heard you battling the first four," Hermione said.

"You've seen Lucius?" Ron asked quickly. "When? Where is he now?"

"Calm down, Weasley," Draco answered tiredly. "He intercepted our escape, cursed me and Mia, tried to curse Hermione, then Disapparated. Wherever he is, he's long gone."

"Hermione, are you okay?" Ron looked searchingly at her as he tried to ascertain any injuries. "Did he hurt you?"

"No—" Hermione began as Draco interrupted.

"Oh, no, Weasley, we're all fine, thanks for asking," Draco said snarkily. "Actually, Hermione's the only one who _didn't_ get hurt by him. At least, not directly." Draco's eyes flashed almost guiltily to Hermione and then to the wall directly across from him.

Ron watched Draco for a moment and then asked, "What do you mean, _not directly_?"

Hermione looked between the two boys somewhat nervously before responding. "Well, you see, Lucius and the other Death Eaters put Draco under the Imperius Curse."

"What?" Ron hissed. He turned to Draco and accused, "What did you do to her? I swear, Malfoy, if you—"

"Ron!" Hermione said placing herself between him and Draco, "I'm fine. He didn't hurt me." Ron looked livid with disbelief while staring down Draco. "He didn't!" she insisted. "Besides, he was under eight Imperios—his father's and seven others."

"Hmm," Ron intoned suspiciously. "The seven Lucius sent up, I presume."

"Yes," Hermione affirmed.

Ron continued to look at Draco through narrowed eyes. "Then it's a good thing he did send them up so we could take care of them and break the curses."

_Of course!_ Hermione's brain grasped onto her _a-ha_ as she thought back to the moments during Mia's endured Crucio. That's why Draco lurched forward so many times—seven times, to be exact. Each time a Death Eater fell Draco would snap out of that particular Imperio.

"Yeah, thanks, Weasley," Draco said, not sounding thankful at all. "You're a real hero."

Ron sent a disgruntled look towards Draco before turning away and muttering something that sounded suspiciously like, "Prat."

Hermione rolled her eyes and said, "Great. Now can we get out of here?"

"Fine," Ron began, but then he and Draco both hissed at the same time, "Wait!" Ron threw out his arm to block Hermione from moving.

Hermione froze instantly and tried not to breathe so she could figure out what had made the boys so uneasy. She strained her ears for any sound, but heard nothing but the incessant beating of her own heart. Ron and Draco both looked at the door and held their wands at the ready. At the same time they both leapt towards the door and pulled someone into the room. They pinned a hooded figure against the same wall Draco had pinned Ron and pointed their wands at his chest. Draco gave him an extra shove into the stone and the hood fell back from his face. Hermione backed away from them and retreated to where Mia stood.

The figure lifted his head and peered at his captors. His face was withered and aged, and his lips twisted into a snarled sort of sneer. "Ah," he began, his voice raspy and strained, "it's the Prodigal." He fixed Draco with his small, watery eyes and wheezed out a short bark of laughter. "What a disappointment _you've_ turned out to be."

"Quiet, Rathbone," Draco ordered. "Where is my father?"

The Death Eater snarled at Draco and returned, "We don't want to go spoiling the surprise, now do we?"

Draco again shoved him back into the stone, Rathbone's head smacking soundly against it. "No games, Rathbone. Where is he?"

Rathbone looked at Draco and said in disgust, "Dunno. Wouldn't tell you if I did, anyway." He then pierced Hermione with a cold stare. "But I've got a message from him."

Hermione felt an icy shiver quickly creep up her spine at his penetrating glare, but returned it unflinchingly with full measure.

"So, give us the message then," Ron demanded.

Rathbone wheezed as Ron's wand jabbed into his ribs and he turned a snarl towards the Auror. "He's got nothing to say to you," he spat out. He then turned his head back to Draco and said, "But he's finally finished with his traitor son. Show your face to him again and you'll get the same courtesy as a common, filthy Muggle."

"You're the filth here," Draco reaffirmed with disgust.

"Oh, really?" Rathbone insolently questioned. His beady eyes slid back to Hermione as he growled, "Mudblood."

"Shut up," Draco whispered threateningly.

Rathbone half smirked, half snarled at Draco's defense of Hermione. "Oh, I don't think I will. You see, my Master's message…is for _her_."

Draco stiffened, a look of practiced intimidation set sternly across his face.

"How dare you even look at her, let alone talk to her?" Ron raged, his face tinged with red.

Draco lifted his wand hand in a slight gesture of silence and said calmly, "Weasley."

Ron gritted his teeth and looked daggers at Rathbone, but said nothing.

Draco returned his wand tip to Rathbone's chest at Ron's silence. "So, Rathbone," he began coolly, "out with it."

Rathbone's mouth widened into a grotesque smile as he eyed Hermione. "Well, girlie," he said with a raised eyebrow, "my Master is sorry he had to cut his visit short; but he looks forward to seeing you again soon."

"He won't be seeing her again _ever_," Ron emphasized forcefully.

Half of Rathbone's smile receded at Ron's interruption to be replaced with disgust. "My Master has his ways," he assured them. "And, by way of good faith, he would like to return something to you."

In an instant quicker than a man of Rathbone's age and health had any business moving at, he reached into his robes and flung an object outwards towards Hermione. The object sailed quickly through the air and Hermione easily recognized it—her wand. The wand sped towards her and before she could think clearly she reached her hand out towards it.

"No, Hermione!" Draco and Ron shouted, but their voices were drowned out by a loud whirring sound that erupted in her ears as her hand made contact with her wand. A solid thump banged against her as her surroundings began to spin sickeningly fast, endless colors and sounds mixing and blending in a kaleidoscope of confusion. She whirled in her vortex of disorientation, her body colliding repeatedly against a solid mass, for what felt like an eternity until finally the spinning slowed and her feet pelted hard into concrete. As she landed, her legs buckled and she crumpled onto the hard floor. A split second later something landed on top of her, knocking the wind out of her. Regaining her breath, she looked up and stared into Mia's shocked face.

"It was a Portkey," Mia said incredulously. "You don't grab onto an enemy's Portkey," she scolded.

"It was my wand," Hermione defended, pushing Mia off of her. "No one expects their wand to be a Portkey."

"It was thrown at you by your enemy," Mia persisted. "You don't touch _anything_ your enemy gives you. That's basic Dark Arts Defense. And you're supposed to be brilliant?"

"Hey!" Hermione began, sounding affronted. "You grabbed onto it, too!"

"I was trying to knock it out of the way before you touched it," Mia continued lecturingly.

"How very self-sacrificing of you," Hermione said sarcastically. "Now we're _both_ who-knows-where."

"Oh, _I_ know where," an amused voice said from Hermione's side. She turned towards the disturbingly familiar voice and met the cold smile of Lucius Malfoy. "Two for one," he commented airily. "Looks like I've just won the proverbial jackpot." His smile then turned into a menacing leer. "Welcome, ladies. I've been waiting for you."


	13. Chapter 13

(Note: I thought I had lost this part of the story forever. I couldn't find my manuscript for the longest time. It wasn't anywhere I looked. Finally, a friend ran across it at her house. Thanks to her for not throwing it away. I kept trying to rewrite, but it was all lame. After practically forever, here, finally, is Chapter 13!)

Hermione and Mia quickly scrambled to their feet as Lucius advanced on them

Hermione and Mia quickly scrambled to their feet as Lucius advanced on them. "How kind of you to join us, Miss Juvonen," he commented while staring down the two girls. "What a sacrifice to make on behalf of your friend."

"She's not my friend," Mia blurted out.

Although the two girls had only just met, Hermione cast a disbelieving glare at Mia. There's something about shared mortal fear that tends to bond people together. Perhaps Hermione was wrong.

Interpreting Hermione's glare as mutual dislike Lucius smiled. "Well then," he began, "you won't mind seeing her in, ah, discomfort, shall we say."

Mia waved her hand unconcernedly in the air. "Just leave me out of it." She glanced surreptitiously at Hermione and almost imperceptibly jerked her head towards Lucius.

Hermione's brow furrowed in confusion as she tried to decipher Mia's meaning. She glanced behind Lucius and for the first time actually looked at her surroundings. The room they were in was, as expected, made of stone. The too solid walls held them in on all sides, but on one side, the side behind Lucius, a stairway ascended. _Escape, but how?_ Hermione's mind began churning out a jumble of ideas as to Mia's subtle meaning, but was interrupted by Lucius's response to Mia.

"Very well," Lucius assented as he flicked his wand towards a corner of the room where a large bed appeared. In an instant, Mia flew backwards and landed squarely against the headboard, her arms flinging outward as shackles appeared around her wrists. She struggled to move her arms but found they were securely chained to the bed posts.

"This is like a really bad B-movie," she said disgustedly. "'The Coward Who Had to Tie Up Little Girls.' Catchy title, isn't it?"

"Feisty girl, aren't you?" Lucius returned in a timbre of menace. "Just the way I like them. Now silence," he commanded, his wand pointing subtly towards her.

Mia continued to move her mouth, but no sound emitted. In frustration she tried to thrash about, her movement hindered greatly by the chains.

Hermione looked at Lucius whose eyes fixed solely on her. "What do you want with me?" she demanded.

"Oh, come now," he chided. "Everyone tells me how brilliant you are. Haven't you worked this one out yet?"

"I know what you want," she replied, repressing a shudder. "But why me?"

"Why you," Lucius repeated contemplatively. "Why, indeed." He moved closer to her and she firmly stood her ground. He raised his wand to her and used it to gently lift a lock of hair away from her face. "You are golden, so they say. A brilliant mind. A consummate witch. The best of the best." His eyes looked searchingly over her face. "Yet, in your blood runs the filth of thousands of years—common, un-bred, non-magic. Why I should require filthy blood seems unimaginable. Don't you think?"

Hermione stood stiffly as she kept her eyes trained on Lucius. He was very close to her, and she didn't for one minute doubt that his calm, subdued, almost gently manner could easily transform into something terrible.

"Yes," he continued at her silence, "That one point perplexed me for quite a while. But finally one phrase of the spell I shall soon use became clear. Would you like to hear it?"

Hermione was baffled. Lucius was very mild, tender, conversational, and that frightened her more than any fit of rage he could have conjured. She dared not speak, partially because she was intimidated by his pleasant manner, but mostly because of her morbid curiosity to know what he was going to say next. He didn't disappoint her.

"The phrase that finally made it all clear is, 'The blood of ages, thick with mud, from whence sprang Kings, Sovereigns, and Conquerors, drawn from strength, pure and mighty, to seal within this spell the indestructible brilliance of immortality.'"

He looked at her expectantly. "Do you understand?" he piqued. "Your blood, though dirty and impure, descends from power: kings, sovereigns, conquerors. Power. And that power, mixed with the brilliance and strength of magic, will imbibe the spell with unsurpassed potency."

Hermione backed away from Lucius as she watched the madness spread across his features. His eyes were glassy and unfocused as his imaginings took hold upon the grandeur he had painted across the canvas of his mind.

"Don't you see?" he asked, as though pleading with her to understand. "Your brilliance and strength; my purity and power: it will be indestructible. _I_ will be indestructible."

In his fit of madness he flicked his wand and a large silver cauldron appeared in the center of the room. "It shall be mine, and forever I shall reign. You and I shall be as sovereigns, ruling and conquering together." Suddenly his eyes focused and bored directly into hers. "Oh, yes," he said nearly bursting with anticipation. "You shall rule by my side. A queen to a king. And we shall live forever in ultimate power."

Hermione desperately wanted to run away from the madman before her. Somewhere along the way, his quest for power had addled his senses. The clever, vengeful, and intimidating man she used to see had melted away and in his place now stood an unstable, disturbed, and desperate man pathetically clinging onto his vision of greatness.

"You're mad, Lucius," she stated quietly.

Lucius looked at her with a smirk. "Oh, I assure you, I am quite sane. But the mere thought of absolute power does make me rather excitable. And the thought that you, Harry Potter's friend and my son's inspiration for treachery, shall help me obtain it is almost more than I can bear. But I shall try."

Hermione blinked her eyes in astonishment. Gone was the madness to be replaced once again with normalcy.

"I'll never be your queen," she said with forced calm.

Lucius looked at her with a satisfied smirk. "Really?" he asked somewhat rhetorically. "Power. Glory. Immortality. These things don't interest you?" His smirk melted into a leer as he tapped his wand gently against his open palm. "Deep down I know a part of you wants it. _Craves_ it. Channel that desire, and you will find the idea exhilarating."

"Never, Lucius," Hermione reaffirmed. Her eyes flickered down to his hand as he retrieved a small vial from his pocket.

"Are you sure?" he asked as his long fingers stroked the vial.

"What's that?" Hermione squinted slightly to get a better look.

"Oh, this little thing?" Lucius asked in feigned innocence. "It's just a little potion to resurrect my wife." At Hermione's expression of pure horror he continued. "It's for you. You see, all you have to do is take this"—he raised the vial towards Hermione—"and I'll have my wife back."

Hermione looked at the dark brown sludge and unfurrowed her brow as the inspiration struck. "Polyjuice," she stated flatly.

"Ah." Lucius tapped the side of his head with his finger. "Caught up, have you?"

Hermione fixed him with a disgusted look. "You're sick."

His leer melted into a glare. "It's your choice," he bristled. "You"—his eyes slid towards Mia—"or her."

"I'd rather die!" Hermione shouted.

"That can be arranged! Supplexio!"

Instantly Hermione fell to her knees. She tried to get up, but her body was held subservient by Lucius's spell. With a flick of his wand the cauldron appeared before her.

Lucius grabbed her arm and held it over the cauldron. "Very well, witch. You've made your choice."

Hermione's eyes widened in fear as Lucius raised a bright silver dagger to her wrist. "Are you ready to watch me rise to immortality?"

Hermione gulped as she felt the cold steel press against her skin. She looked straight ahead and locked stares with Lucius. His face was impassive, a blank mask of indifference. His demeanor was cold and every move calculated. She met his stare with every ounce of courage she could muster, though inside her heart pounded wildly as her brain sent off warning signals to flee.

She continued to stare at him as the dagger's edge began to warm against her skin. The seconds ticked by and Hermione wondered what he was waiting for. Her heart kept up its wild pace as she watched his face for anything, but all she saw was the same indifference. She felt trapped, like a mouse waiting for the cat to pounce. And then she realized it. She _was_ the mouse, and he was playing a very sick waiting game with her. She wanted to rail at him and call him on his perverse game, but instead she struggled to remain courageous. Perhaps if she could maintain the status quo she could buy herself a few more moments to think of a plan.

Hermione lifted her chin in clear defiance as she continued to stare down Lucius. She would not be made to cower before this wasted excuse for a human being, regardless of what serious damage his dagger could inflict upon her. She was a strong willed, extremely stubborn individual, and, by Merlin, she would not give Lucius the satisfaction of seeing her crumble before him. Her resolve strengthened, she fixed him with the most hardened glare she could muster.

His eyes were ice. They burned with cold steel and deadened humanity. His face masked all signs of emotion, all traces of a living soul. Hermione wondered at his ability to make himself so unreadable, so untouchable to the world. What had made him that way? Had he been mistreated as a child, forced to endure the pain of error when he failed to meet the standard set for him? Had his father placed unattainable tasks for him to accomplish in order to gain a measure of parental acceptance, unrealistic goals he had passed on to his own son? Or was he just a cruel and inhuman devil who wielded power like the world was his to rule?

She continued to stare him down, determined to give him a fair run for his money. His eyes never flickered, his face never altered. He seemed to be a statue of indifference. As she watched his face for any sign of change she felt a sharp pain slide across her arm. She gasped audibly as she felt a warm trickle dance down her wrist.

Lucius's face remained stony and unchanged. She would almost have thought that nothing had happened by looking at Lucius, except for the aching throb that began to pulsate across her forearm. Her eyes went wide with shock as they stayed riveted to Lucius.

"Funny," he said quietly as his eyes finally moved to glance down at Hermione's arm. "It doesn't look like mud." He smiled predatorily as he returned his eyes to hers. "But, then again, it never does."

Hermione kept her eyes forcibly trained on Lucius. She knew that she couldn't look down to see the work that his dagger had made on her arm. She wasn't particularly weak-stomached, but she couldn't bear to lose her composure by visually confirming what her nerve endings already knew.

Just as Hermione thought she could keep her ruse of holding it together, Lucius pressed the pad of his thumb harshly against her carved flesh. She cried out and tried to pull her arm out of his grasp, but he held on tightly and continued to squeeze her wound. Between strained gasps for air she heard several small splashes against liquid in the cauldron.

"Ah, very good," Lucius backhandedly complimented as he released her arm. "Hardly a sound from you. Potter, on the other hand, screamed like a little girl when he resurrected the Dark Lord."

"You foul, disgusting, demon! You're not good enough to lick Harry's boots, let alone speak of him," Hermione seethed.

Lucius fixed her with a deprecating half smirk, half grimace. "For that I'm not going to let you watch the festivities. Oh, you would have enjoyed hearing the final incantation that will make me immortal—_it's in Latin_," he added tantalizingly. "And, of course, my wife's resurrection. Watching her rise again to my side should be most exciting. But you've been a naughty witch, saying such nasty things to me. For that you will be punished."

He brandished a small brass coin from his pocket and rubbed it slightly between his fingers. "Oh, don't worry," he said unconcernedly as he correctly interpreted the look on her face. "You have an anxious entourage waiting for you." He took her wounded arm in his hand and gently opened her clenched fist. "They've been waiting a very long time for you." He placed the coin in her palm and closed her fingers around it. In her other hand he placed her wand. He then dropped his hands from hers.

"Goodbye, Miss Granger," he said tenderly, almost lovingly. "_Portus_."


End file.
